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<t 


MR.  RABBIT  FELL  KERTHUMP.     PAGE  41. 


LITTLE   MR.  THIMBLEFINGER 
AND  HIS  QUEER  COUNTRY 

OTjat  ttje  Cijilorm  §>ato  ano  H?farD  tljere 

BY 

JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS 

AUTHOR   OF  "  UNCLE  REMUS,T*ETC. 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  OLIVER  HER  FORD 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 

press, 
1897 


-PS 
1-807 

L'S 


Copyright,  1894, 

BY  JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS  AND 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Honghton  and  Company 


A  LITTLE  NOTE  TO  A  LITTLE  BOOK. 

THE  stories  that  follow  belong  to  three  cate 
gories.  Some  of  them  were  gathered  from  the 
negroes,  but  were  not  embodied  in  the  tales  of 
Uncle  Remus,  because  I  was  not  sure  they  were 
negro  stories ;  some  are  Middle  Georgia  folklore 
stories,  and  no  doubt  belong  to  England;  and 
some  are  merely  inventions. 

They  were  all  written  in  the  midst  of  daily 
work  on  a  morning  newspaper,  —  a  fact  that  will 
account  in  some  measure  for  their  crude  setting. 

J.  C.  H. 

WKST  END,  ATLANTA,  GA. 


CONTENTS. 

PAOK 

I.  THE  GRANDMOTHER  OF  THE  DOLLS     ...  5 

II.  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER'S  QUEER  COUNTRY  .        .  17 

III.  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER'S  FRIENDS    ....  33 

IV.  Two  QUEER  STORIES 47 

V.  THE  TALKING-SADDLE 61 

VI.  THE  TALKING-SADDLE  AND  THE  THIEF    .        .  73 

VII.  THE  LADDER  OF  LIONS 86 

VIII.  BROTHER  TERRAPIN'S  FIDDLE-STRING       .        .  101 

IX.  THE  LOOKING-GLASS  CHILDREN     ....  110 

X.  MR.  RABBIT  AS  A  RAIN-MAKER       .        .        .  121 

XI.  How  BROTHER  BEAR'S  HAIR  WAS  COMBED          .  131 

XII.  A  SINGING-MATCH 139 

XIII.  THE  STRAWBERRY-GIRL 147 

XIV.  THE  WITCH  OF  THE  WELL       ....  155 
XV.  THE  BEWITCHED  HUNTSMAN         ....  165 

XVI.  THE  THREE  IVORY  BOBBINS      ....  175 

XVII.  "  KEEN-POINT,"  "  COB-HANDLE,"  AND  "  BUTCH  "  185 

XVIII.  MRS.  MEADOWS  RESUMES  HER  STORY      .        .  195 
XIX.  A  STORY  OF  THE  RIVER                                       .  215 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

MR.  RABBIT  FELL  KERTHUMP  (Page  41)    .      Frontispiece 
RAG-TAG  ROLLING  OUT  OF  THE  CORNER         ...        10 
THE  GRANDMOTHER  OF  THE  DOLLS  AND  THE  BIG  BLACK 

CAT 14 

SWEETEST  SUSAN  WAKING  UP 18 

FOLLOWING  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER        ...        24 

MR.  RABBIT  AND  MRS.  MEADOWS 36 

Mu.  BILLY-GOAT  AND  MR.  WOLF 52 

MY  MOTHER  WASHING  THE  OLD  MAN'S  COAT  AND  WAIST 
COAT  56 

DRUSILLA  WAITING  ON  MR.  RABBIT 62 

Tip-Top  AND  THE  MAYOR 68 

THE  MAYOR  PARDONING  THE  THIEF 82 

CHICKAMY  CRANY  CROW  AND  TICKLE-MY-TOES  .  .  84 
MR.  RABBIT  BANDAGING  BROTHER  LION'S  PAW  .  .  92 

THE  LADDER  OF  LIONS 98 

MR.  RABBIT  FIDDLING  FOR  BROTHER  TERRAPIN  .  .  104 
BROTHER  TERRAPIN  TUMBLING  INTO  THE  CREEK  .  .  108 
SWEETEST  SUSAN,  MEETING  HER  REFLECTION  .  .  .110 
THEY  ALL  PLUNGED  INTO  THE  LOOKING-GLASS  .  .  118 

MR.  RABBIT  SAYING  NOTHING 124 

BROTHER  BEAR  ARGUING  THE  RAIN  QUESTION      .        .      128 

MRS.  BEAR  HANGING  OUT  CLOTHES 134 

LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER 140 

THE  SINGING-MATCH   .  144 


viii  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

GRANNY  GRIM-EYE  FINDS  A  BEAUTIFUL  LITTLE  GIRL 

ASLEEP        148 

THE  LITTLE  OLD  MAN  DISCOVERS  THE  STRAWBERRY- 
GIRL  150 

THE  GOLDEN- HAIRED,  BEAUTIFUL  LITTLE  GIRL     .        .      164 
THE  LITTLE  OLD  MAN,  THREE  WITS,  AND  THE  STAG      .  174 

THE  STAG  AND  THE  WITCH 180 

THE  LITTLE  GIRL  AND  THE  OLD  MAN       ....  192 

VALENTINE  SLAYING  THE  SPIDER 210 

VALENTINE  TALKING  TO  THE  RIVER 220 

BUSTER  JOHN  SHAKING  HANDS  WITH  MR.  RABBIT        .      228 


LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER  AND 
HIS  QUEER  COUNTRY. 


I. 

THE    GRANDMOTHER    OF   THE    DOLLS. 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  lived  on  a  plantation, 
in  the  very  middle  of  Middle  Georgia,  a  little  girl 
and  a  little  boy  and  their  negro  nurse.  The  little 
girl's  name  was  Sweetest  Susan.  That  was  the 
name  her  mother  gave  her  when  she  was  a  baby, 
and  she  was  so  good-tempered  that  everybody 
continued  to  call  her  Sweetest  Susan  when  she 
grew  older.  She  was  seven  years  old.  The  little 
boy's  name  was  Buster  John.  That  was  the 
name  his  father  had  given  him.  Buster  John 
was  eight.  The  nurse's  name  was  Drusilla,  and 
she  was  twelve.  Drusilla  was  called  a  nurse,  but 
that  was  just  a  habit  people  had.  She  was  more 
of  a  child  than  either  Sweetest  Susan  or  Buster 
John,  but  she  was  very  much  larger.  She  was 


6  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

their  playmate  —  their  companion,  and  a  capital 
one  she  made. 

Sweetest  Susan  had  black  hair  and  dark  eyes 
like  her  father,  while  Buster  John  had  golden 
hair  and  brown  eyes  like  his  mother.  As  for 
Drusilla,  she  was  as  black  as  the  old  black  cat, 
and  always  in  a  good  humor,  except  when  she 
pretended  to  be  angry.  Sweetest  Susan  had 
wonderful  dark  eyes  that  made  her  face  very 
serious  except  when  she  laughed,  but  she  was  as 
full  of  fun  as  Buster  John,  who  was  always  in 
some  sort  of  mischief  that  did  nobody  any  harm. 

These  children  were  not  afraid  of  anything. 
They  scorned  to  run  from  horses,  or  cows,  or  dogs. 
They  were  born  on  the  big  plantation,  and  they 
spent  the  greater  part  of  the  day  out  of  doors, 
save  when  the  weather  was  very  cold  or  very  wet. 
They  had  no  desire  to  stay  in  the  house,  except 
when  they  .were  compelled  to  go  to  bed,  and  a 
great  many  times  they  fretted  .  a  little  because 
they  thought  bedtime  came  too  soon. 

Sweetest  Susan  had  a  great  many  dolls,  and 
she  was  very  fond  of  them.  She  had  a  China 
Doll,  a  Jip-jap  Doll,  a  Rag  Doll,  a  Rubber  Doll, 
a  White  Doll,  a  Brown  Doll,  and  a  Black  Doll. 


THE  GRANDMOTHER    OF  THE  DOLLS.          1 

Sometimes  slie  and  Brasilia  would  play  with  the 
Dolls  out  in  the  yard,  and  sometimes  Buster  John 
would  join  them  when  he  had  nothing  better  to 
do.  But  every  evening  Sweetest  Susan  and  Dru- 
silla  would  carry  the  Dolls  into  the  bedroom  and 
place  them  side  by  side  against  the  wall.  Sweet 
est  Susan  wanted  them  placed  there,  she  said,  so 
she  could  see  her  children  the  last  thing  at  night 
and  the  first  thing  in  the  morning. 

But  one  night  Sweetest  Susan  went  to  bed  cry 
ing,  and  this  was  so  unusual  that  Drusilla  forgot 
to  put  the  Dolls  in  their  places.  Sweetest  Susan's 
feelings  were  hurt.  She  had  not  been  very  good, 
and  her  mother  had  called  her  Naughty  Susan  in 
stead  of  Sweetest  Susan.  Buster  John,  in  the 
next  room,  wanted  to  know  what  the  matter  was, 
but  Sweetest  Susan  would  n't  tell  him,  and  neither 
would  she  tell  Drusilla.  After  a  while  Sweetest 
Susan's  mother  came  in  and  kissed  her.  That 
helped  her  some,  but  she  lay  awake  ever  so  long 
sobbing  a  little  and  thinking  how  she  must  do  so 
as  not  to  be  called  Naughty  Susan. 

Drusilla  lay  on  a  pallet  near  Sweetest  Susan's 
bed,  but,  for  a  wonder,  Drusilla  lay  awake  too. 
She  said  nothing,  but  she  was  not  snoring,  and 


8  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

Sweetest  Susan  could  see  the  whites  of  her  eyes 
shining.  The  fire  that  had  been  kindled  on  the 
hearth  so  as  to  give  a  light  (for  the  weather  was 
not  cold)  flickered  and  flared,  and  little  blue 
flames  crept  about  over  the  sputtering  pine-knot, 
jumping  off  into  the  air  and  then  jumping  back. 
The  blue  flames  flickered  and  danced  and  crept 
about  so,  and  caused  such  a  commotion  among  the 
shadows  that  were  running  about  the  room  and 
trying  to  hide  themselves  behind  the  chairs  and  in 
the  corners,  that  the  big  brass  andirons  seemed 
to  be  alive. 

While  Sweetest  Susan  was  lying  there  watching 
the  shadows  and  wondering  when  Drusilla  would 
go  to  sleep,  she  heard  a  voice  call  out,  — 

"  Oh,  dear !  I  believe  I  've  got  smut  all  over  my 
frock  again ! " 

It  was  the  queerest  little  voice  that  ever  was 
heard.  It  had  a  tinkling  sound,  such  as  Susan 
had  often  made  when  she  tied  her  mother's  gold 
thimble  to  a  string  and  struck  it  with  a  knitting- 
needle.  Just  as  she  was  wondering  where  it  came 
from,  a  little  old  woman  stepped  from  behind  one 
of  the  andirons  and  shook  the  ashes  from  her 
dress. 


THE  GRANDMOTHER  OF  THE  DOLLS. 

"I  think  I'd  better  stay  at  home,"  said  the  lit 
tle  old  woman,  "  if  I  can't  come  down  the  chim 
ney  without  getting  smut  all  over  my  frock.  I 
wonder  where  Mr.  Thimblefinger  is  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  'm  here,"  exclaimed  another  tinkling 
voice  from  the  fireplace,  "but  I  'm  not  coining  in. 
They  are  not  asleep,  and,  even  if  they  were,  I  see 
the  big  Black  Cat  in  that  chair  there." 

*vMuch  I  care!"  cried  the  little  old  woman 
snappishly.  "  I  '11  call  you  when  I  want  you." 

Then  she  went  around  the  room  where  Sweet 
est  Susan's  Dolls  were  scattered,  and  looked  at 
each  one  as  it  lay  asleep.  Then  she  shook  her 
head  and  sighed. 

"  They  look  as  if  they  were  tired,  poor  things  !  " 
she  said.  "  And  no  wonder !  I  expect  they  have 
been  pulled  and  hauled  about  and  dragged  around 
from  pillar  to  post  since  I  was  here  last." 

Then  the  little  old  woman  touched  the  Dolls 
with  her  cane,  one  by  one.  Each  Doll  called 
out  as  it  was  touched,  — 

"  Is  that  you,  Granny  ?  " 

And  to  each  one  she  replied :  — 

"  Reser,  roscr,  rise  ! 
And  rib  and  rub  your  eyes  ! n 


10  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

Sweetest  Susan  was  not  at  all  alarmed.  She 
felt  as  if  she  had  been  expecting  something  of  the 
kind.  The  Dolls  arose  and  ranged  themselves 
in  front  of  the  fireplace  —  all  except  the  Rag  Doll. 

"Where's  Rag-Tag?"  inquired  the  little  old 
woman  anxiously. 

"  Here  I  am,  Granny  !  "  replied  the  Rag  Doll. 
"  I  'm  lame  in  one  leg  and  I  can't  walk  with  the 
other,  and  my  arm 's  out  of  joint." 

"  Tut !  tut !  "  said  the  little  old  woman.  "  How 
can  you  be  lame  in  your  legs  when  there's  no 
bone  in  them?  How  can  your  arm  be  out  of 
joint  when  there 's  no  joint  ?  Get  up  !  " 

Rag-Tag  rolled  out  of  the  corner  and  tumbled 
across  the  floor,  heels  over  head. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  the  little  old  woman,  open 
ing  her  satchel,  "  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  She  's  pulled  all  my  hair  out ! "  whispered 
the  China  Doll. 

"  She's  mashed  my  nose  flat !  "  cried  the  Jip- 
jap  Doll. 

"  She 's  put  one  of  my  eyes  out ! "  whined  the 
Brown  Doll. 

"  She 's  put  chalk  all  over  me !  "  blubbered  the 
Black  Doll. 


Jfrvt' 


RAG-TAG    ROLLING   OUT   OF   THE   CORNER 


THE  GRANDMOTHER   OF  THE   DOLLS.        \\ 

"  She  lias  n't  hurt  me  !  "  exclaimed  the  Rubber 
Doll. 

"  She 's  made  a  hole  in  my  back,  and  the 
sawdust  is  all  running  out ! "  whined  Rag- 
Tag. 

"  I  '11  attend  to  you  first,  before  you  bleed 
to  death,"  said  the  little  old  woman,  frowning. 
Then  she  rapped  on  the  floor  with  her  cane  and 
cried  out :  — 

"  Long-Legged  Spinner, 
Come  earn  your  dinner  !  " 

While  Sweetest  Susan  was  wondering  what 
this  meant,  she  saw  a  big  Black  Spider  swing 
down  from  the  ceiling  and  hang,  dangling  close 
to  the  little  old  woman's  face.  Its  little  eyes 
sparkled  like  coals  of  fire,  and  its  hairy  mouth 
worked  as  if  it  were  chewing  something.  Sweet 
est  Susan  shivered  as  she  looked  at  it,  but  she 
didn't  scream. 

"  A  thimbleful  of  fresh  cobwebs,  Long-Legged 
Spinner !  "  said  the  -little  old  woman,  in  a  busi 
nesslike  way. 

Then  the  big  Black  Spider  moved  his  legs 
faster  than  a  cat  can  wink  her  eyes,  and  in  a  few 
seconds  the  fresh  cobwebs  were  spun. 


12  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  That  is  very  nice,"  said  the  little  old  woman 
"  Here's  a  fat  Bluebottle  for  you." 

The  big  Black  Spider  seized  the  Fly  and  ran 
nimbly  to  the  ceiling  again.  The  Fly  buzzed  and 
buzzed  in  a  pitiful  way,  and  Sweetest  Susan 
thought  to  herself,  "  Oh,  what  should  I  do  if 
that  was  poor  me !  " 

Then  the  little  old  woman  hunted  in  her 
satchel  until  she  found  a  piece  of  mutton  suet, 
and  with  this  and  the  fresh  cobwebs  she  quickly 
stopped  the  hole  in  Rag-Tag's  back.  This  done, 
she  went  around  and  doctored  each  one.  She 
glued  more  hair  on  the  China  Doll.  She  fixed 
the  nose  of  the  Jip-jap  Doll.  She  gave  a  new 
blue  eye  to  the  Brown  Doll. 

"  There !  "  she  exclaimed  when  she  had  fin 
ished,  "I  think  you  look  a  little  more  like 
yourself  now.  But  you  would  look  a  great  deal 
better  if  you  had  any  clothes  fit  to  wear.  Now 
pay  attention !  What  is  the  name  of  this  hor 
rible  giantess  that  drags  you  about  and  beats  you 
so?" 

"It's  no  giantess,  Granny,"  replied  Rag-Tag, 
"  It 's  a  little  girl,  and  sometimes  she 's  very,  very 
good." 


THE   GRANDMOTHER    OF  THE  DOLLS.        13 

"  Hush  !  "  cried  the  little  old  woman.  "  Speak 
when  you  are  spoken  to." 

"She  is  a  giantess,  Granny,"  said  the  Brown 
Doll.  "  She  's  taller  than  that  chair  yonder." 

"  Where  is  she  now  ? "  the  little  old  woman 
asked  fiercely. 

"  She  's  asleep  in  the  bed,  Granny,"  said  the 
Brown  Doll. 

"  Pinch  her  good,  Granny !  "  cried  the  Wax 
Doll.  "  Put  out  her  eyes  !  " 

"  Scratch  her,  Granny  !  Pull  out  her  hair  !  " 
pleaded  the  Brown  Doll. 

"  Bump  her  head  against  the  wall,  Granny ! 
Mash  her  nose !  "  exclaimed  the  Jip-jap  Doll. 

The  Rag-Tag  Doll  said  not  a  word. 

All  this  time  the  little  old  woman  was  search 
ing  in  her  satchel  for  something,  and  Sweetest 
Susan  began  to  get  frightened. 

"  I  've  come  off  without  my  specs,"  said  the 
little  old  woman,  "  and  I  can't  see  a  stiver  with 
such  a  light  as  this." 

Just   then   the  big  Black  Cat   that  had  been 
sleeping  quietly  in  a  chair  rose  and  stretched  him 
self  and  gaped,  showing  his   long   white   teeth. 
He  jumped  to  the  floor  and  walked  back  and  forth 


14  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

purring  and  rubbing  against  the  little  old  woman 
in  a  friendly  way. 

"  Get  out !  You  '11  piish  me  over,"  she  cried. 
"  Oh,  will  you  go  away  ?  I  '11  stick  you  with  my 
needle  !  I  certainly  will !  Keep  your  long  tail 
out  of  my  face  !  Oh,  how  can  I  see  to  do  any 
thing  ?  Will  you  go  away  ?  I  '11  hit  you  as  sure 
as  I  am  standing  here !  " 

"  Don't,"  said  the  big  Black  Cat,  stopping  and 
looking  straight  at  the  little  old  woman.  "  Don't 
you  know  it  brings  bad  luck  to  hit  a  black  cat?  " 

"  If  I  hit  you,  you  '11  feel  it,"  cried  the  little  old 
woman. 

"  Stop/'  exclaimed  the  big  Black  Cat.  "  I 
know  what  you  are  here  for.  Do  you  see  my 
eyes  ?  They  are  as  green  as  grass.  Do  you  see 
my  teeth  ?  They  are  as  strong  as  iron.  Do  you 
see  my  claws  ?  They  are  as  sharp  as  needles.  If 
I  look  at  you  hard  you  '11  shiver  ;  if  I  bite  you 
you'll  squall;  if  I  scratch  you  you'll  bleed." 

The  Grandmother  of  the  Dolls  looked  at  the 
big  Black  Cat  long  and  hard. 

"  Do  I  know  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  know  you,"  replied  the  Black  Cat. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  she  asked. 


THE  GRANDMOTHER  OF  THE  DOLLS  AND  THE   BIG 
BLACK  CAT 


THE  GRANDMOTHER    OF  THE  DOLLS.        15 

"  Billy-Billy  Blackfoot." 

"  It  is  time  for  you  to  go  hunting,"  she  said. 
She  wanted  to  get  him  out  of  the  room. 

"  I  have  found  what  I  was  hunting  for,"  said 
Billy-Billy  Blackfoot. 

"  There  's  a  rat  gnawing  in  the  pantry." 
"  He  '11  be  fatter  when  I  catch  him." 
"  There 's  a  piece  of  cheese  in  the  dining-room." 
"  It  won't  spoil  until  I  eat  it." 
"  There 's  a  pan  of  milk  in  the  kitchen." 
"  It  won't  turn  sour  till  I  drink  it." 
"  There  's  catnip  in  the  garden." 
"  It  will  grow  till  I  want  it." 
The    Grandmother  of   the  Dolls  then  made  a 
cross-mark  on  the  carpet  and  waved  her  cane  in 
the  air.     This  was  done  to  put  a  spell  on  Billy- 
Billy  Blackfoot,  but  before  the  spell  could  work 
Billy-Billy    made   a    circle     by    chasing    his   tail 
around.     Then  he  glared  at  the  little  old  woman 
and  slowly  closed  one  eye.     This  was  too  much. 
The  Grandmother  of   the  Dolls  seized  her  cane 
and  made  a  furious   attack  on   Billy-Billy  Black- 
foot,  but  he  leaped  nimbly  out  of  the  way  and 
the  cane  fell  with  a  whack  on  the  bald  head  of 
the  Brown  Doll. 


1G  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

At  this  there  was  a  tremendous  uproar.  The 
Brown  Doll  screamed  :  "  Murder  !  "  Billy-Billy 
Blackfoot's  tail  swelle4  to  twice  its  natural  size  ; 
the  hair-brush  fell  on  the  floor ;  the  dustpan 
rattled  ;  the  shovel  and  tongs  staggered  out  from 
the  chimney-corner  and  rolled  over  on  the  hearth  ; 
the  Dolls  scrambled  and  scurried  under  the  bed, 
and  the  little  old  woman  whisked  up  the  chimney 
like  a  spark  from  a  burning  log. 

When  Sweetest  Susan  raised  up  in  bed  to  look 
around  she  saw  Drusilla  sitting  on  her  pallet  rub 
bing  her  eyes,  but  Billy-Billy  Blackfoot  was  sit 
ting  by  the  fireplace  washing  his  face  as  quietly 
as  if  nothing  had  happened.  At  first  it  seemed 
to  Sweetest  Susan  that  it  had  all  been  a  dream, 
but  presently  she  heard  a  small  voice  that  came 
down  the  chimney : 

"  Mr.  Thimblefinger  !  Mr.  Thimblefinger  !  It 
is  nine  minutes  after  twelve."  There  was  a  pause, 
and  then  the  small  voice  sounded  farther  away, 
like  an  echo,  "  Nine  minutes  and  two  seconds 
after  twelve  ! " 


n. 

MR.  THIMBLEFINGER'S  QUEER  COUNTRY. 

THE  next  morning  Sweetest  Susan  was  awake 
early.  She  wanted  very  much  to  turn  over  and 
go  to  sleep  again,  for  her  eyes  were  heavy  and 
her  body  was  tired.  But  the  moment  she  remem 
bered  the  wonderful  events  of  the  night  before, 
she  sat  up  in  bed  and  looked  around.  Drusilla 
was  still  asleep  and  snoring  very  loudly,  but 
Sweetest  Susan  jumped  out  of  bed  and  shook  her 
by  the  shoulder. 

"  Drusilla  !  Drusilla  !  wake  up  !  "  cried  Sweet 
est  Susan.  Drusilla  stopped  short  in  her  snoring 
and  turned  over  with  a  groan.  She  kept  her 
eyes  closed,  and  in  a  moment  she  would  have 
been  snoring  again,  but  Sweetest  Susan  contin 
ued  to  shake  her  and  called  her  until  she  squalled 
out :  — 

"  Who  dat  ?     What  you  want  ?     Oh,  Lordy  !  " 

"  Wake  up,  Drusilla,"  said  Sweetest  Susan,  "  I 
want  to  ask  you  something." 


18  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  Ain't  I  'wake  ?  How  kin  I  be  any  'wakei 
when  I  'm  'wake  ?  Oh,  is  dat  you,  honey  ?  I 
wuz  skeer'd  't  was  dat  liP  bit  er  ol'  'omaiic 
Whar  she  gone  ?  Las'  time  I  seed  her  she  wuz 
des  walkin'  'roun'  here  like  she  wuz  gwine  ter 
tromple  on  me.  I  laid  low,  I  did." 

Sweetest  Susan  clasped  her  hands  together  and 
cried  :  "  Oh,  was  n't  it  a  dream,  Drusilla  ?  Did 
it  all  happen  sure  enough  ?  " 

Drusilla  shook  her  head  wildly.  "  How  kin 
we  bofe  have  de  same  kind  er  dream  ?  I  seed 
de  'oman  gwine  on,  en  you  seed  'er  gwine 
on.  Uh-uh !  Don't  talk  ter  me  'bout  no 
dreams." 

The  whole  matter  was  settled  when  Buster  John 
cried  out  from  the  next  room  :  "  What  fuss  was 
that  you  were  making  in  there  last  night,  squeal 
ing  and  squeaking  ?  " 

The  matter  was  soon  explained  to  Buster  John, 
and  after  breakfast  the  children  went  out  and  sat 
on  the  big  wood-pile  and  talked  it  all  over.  The 
boy  asked  a  hundred  questions,  but  still  his  curi 
osity  was  not  satisfied. 

All  this  time  the  birds  were  singing  in  the 
trees  and  the  wood-sawyers  sawing  in  the  pine 


SWEETEST  SUSAN   WAKING   UP 


MR.  THIMBLEFINGER'S   QUEER   COUNTRY.   19 

logs.  Jo-reeter,  jo-reeter,  jo-ree  !  sang  the  birds. 
Craik,  craik,  craik,  went  the  wood-sawyers. 

"  There  are  fifty  dozen  of  them,"  said  Buster 
John. 

"  Fifty-five  thousand  you  'd  better  say,"  replied 
Sweetest  Susan.  "  Just  listen  !  " 

"  No  needs  ter  listen,"  cried  Drusilla.  "  You  'd 
hear  'em  ef  you  plugged  up  yo'  years." 

Buster  John  put  his  knife-blade  under  a  thick 
piece  of  pine  bark  and  pried  it  up  to  find  one 
of  the  busy  sawyers.  The  bark  was  strong,  but 
presently  it  seemed  to  come  up  of  its  own  accord, 
and  out  jumped  the  queerest  little  man  they  had 
ever  seen  or  even  heard  of  except  in  make-believe 
story-books.  Buster  John  dropped  his  knife, 
and  down  it  went  into  the  wood-pile.  He  could 
hear  it  go  rattling  from  log  to  log  nearly  to  the 
bottom.  Sweetest  Susan  gave  a  little  screech. 
Drusilla  sat  bolt  upright  and  exclaimed :  — 

"  You  all  better  come  en  go  see  yo'  ma.  I 
want  ter  see  'er  myse'f." 

But  there  was  nothing  to  be  frightened  at.  The 
tiny  man  had  brushed  the  dust  and  trash  from 
his  clothes,  and  then  turned  to  the  children  with 
a  good-humored  smile.  He  was  not  above  four 


20  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

inches  high.  He  had  on  a  dress-coat.  Drusilla 
afterward  described  it  as  a  claw-hammer  coat, 
velveteen  knickerbockers,  and  silver  buckles  on 
his  shoes.  His  hat  was  shaped  like  a  thimble, 
and  he  had  a  tiny  feather  stuck  in  the  side  of  it. 

"  I  'm  much  obliged  to  you  for  getting  me  out 
of  that  scrape,"  he  said  with  a  bow  to  all  the 
children.  "  It  was  a  pretty  tight  place.  I 
stayed  out  last  night  just  one  second  and  a  half 
too  late,  and  when  I  went  to  go  home  I  found 
the  door  shut.  So  I  just  crawled  under  the 
bark  there  for  a  nap.  The  log  must  have  turned 
in  some  way,  for  when  I  woke  up  and  tried  to 
crawl  out  I  found  I  could  n't  manage  it.  I 
wouldn't  have  minded  that  so  much,  but  just 
then  I  saw  one  of  those  terrible  flat-headed  crea 
tures  making  his  way  toward  me.  Why,  his 
head  was  a  sawmill !  He  was  gnawing  the  wood 
out  of  his  way  and  clearing  a  road  to  me.  I 
tried  to  draw  my  sword,  but  I  couldn't  get  it 
from  under  me.  Then  I  felt  the  bark  rising.  I 
pushed  as  hard  as  I  could,  and  here  I  am." 

"  Ax  'im  his  name,"  said  Drusilla  in  an  awe- 
stricken  tone. 

"  Ah,  I  forgot,"  responded  the  little  man.     "  I 


MR.  THIMBLEFINGERS   QUEER   COUNTRY.  21 

know  you,  but  you  don't  know  me.  My  name  is 
Mr.  Thimblefinger,  and  I  shall  be  happy  to  serve 
you.  Whenever  you  want  me  just  tap  three 
times  on  the  head  of  your  bed." 

"  Thank  goodness  !  I  don't  sleep  in  no  bed," 
exclaimed  Drusilla. 

"  That  makes  no  difference,"  said  Mr.  Thimble* 
finger.  "  If  you  sleep  on  a  pallet  just  tap  on  the 
floor." 

"  Please,  Mister,  don't  talk  dat  a-way,"  pleaded 
Drusilla,  "  kase  I  '11  be  constant  a-projeckin'  wid 
dat  tappin',  an'  de  f  us'  time  you  come  I  '11  holler 
fire." 

"  Don't  notice  her,"  said  Buster  John,  "  she 
talks  to  hear  herself  talk." 

"  I  see,"  replied  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  tapping 
his  forehead  significantly  and  nodding  his  head. 

"  You  kin  nod,"  said  Drusilla  defiantly,  "  but 
my  head  got  mo"  in  it  dan  you  kin  comb  out." 

"  I  believe  you !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Thimblefin 
ger,  "  I  believe  you  !  "  He  spoke  so  earnestly 
that  Sweetest  Susan  and  Buster  John  laughed, 
and  Drusilla  laughed  with  them. 

"  You  dropped  your  knife,"  said  Mr.  Thimble- 
finger.  "  I  'ni  sorry  of  it.  I  can't  bring  it  up 


22  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

to  you,  but  I  '11  see  if  I  can't  crawl  under  and  get 
it  out." 

With  that  he  leaped  nimbly  from  log  to  log  and 
disappeared  under  th«  wood-pile.  The  children 
went  down  to  see  what  he  would  do.  They  were 
so  astonished  at  his  droll  appearance  that  they 
forgot  their  curiosity. 

"Is  that  a  fairy,  brother?-"  asked  Sweetest 
Susan  in  a  low  voice. 

"  No !  "  exclaimed  Buster  John  with  a  lofty 
air,  but  not  loudly.  "  Don't  you  see  he 's  not  a 
bit  like  the  fairies  we  read  about  in  books  ?  Why, 
he  was  afraid  of  a  wood-sawyer." 

"  That 's  so,"  Sweetest  Susan  rejoined. 

"  He 's  a  witch,  dat  what  he  is,"  said  Brasilia. 

"  Shucks  !  "  whispered  Buster  John.  He  heard 
the  voice  of  Mr.  Thimblefinger  under  the  wood 
pile. 

"  I  've  found  it,  I  've  found  it !  "  he  cried.  And 
presently  he  made  his  appearance,  dragging  the 
knife  after  him.  He  tugged  at  it  until  he  got  it 
out,  and  then  he  sat  down  on  a  chip,  wiped  the 
perspiration  from  his  eyes,  and  fanned  himself 
with  a  thin  flake  of  pine  bark  no  bigger  than  a 
bee's  wing. 


MR.   THIMBLEFINGER'S   QUEER   COUNTRY.  23 

"  Pick  me  up  and  let 's  go  on  top  of  the  wood 
pile,  "  said  Mr.  Thimblefinger  after  a  while.  "  It 's 
suffocating  down  here.  Ouch  !  don't  tickle  me, 
if  you  do  I  shall  have  a  fit."  Buster  John  had 
lifted  him  by  placing  a  thumb  and  forefinger 
under  his  arms.  "  And  don't  squeeze  me, 
neither,"  the  little  man  went  on.  "  I  was  cramped 
under  that  bark  until  I  'm  as  sore  as  a  boil  all 
over.  Goodness  !  I  wish  I  was  at  home  !  " 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  "  asked  Sweetest  Susan 
when  they  were  once  more  seated  on  the  wood 
pile. 

"  Not  far  from  here,  not  very  far,"  replied 
Mr.  Thimblefinger,  shaking  his  head  sagely,  "  but 
it  is  a  different  country  —  oh,  entirely  different." 

Sweetest  Susan  edged  away  from  the  little  man 
at  this,  and  Drusilla  stretched  her  eyes. 

"  What  is  it  like  ?  "  asked  Buster  John  boldly. 

Mr.  Thimblefinger  reflected  a  while,  and  then 
shook  his  head.  "  I  can  show  it  to  you,"  he 
said,  "  but  I  can't  describe  it." 

"  Pick  'im  up  an'  show  'im  to  your  ma !  "  ex 
claimed  Drusilla  suddenly. 

"  No,  no,  no  !  "  cried  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  leap 
ing  to  his  feet.  "  That  would  spoil  everything. 


24  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

No  grown  person  living  in  this  country  has  ever 
seen  me.  No,  no !  don't  try  that.  It  would 
spoil  your  luck.  I  would  n't  be  here  now  if  the 
Dolls'  Grandmother  had  n't  begged  me  to  come 
with  her  last  night.  But  I  '11  come  to  see  you," 
—  he  pointed  at  Drusilla.  "  I  '11  come  often." 

"  I  des  said  dat  fer  ter  see  what  you  'd  say, " 
protested  Drusilla.  "  You  wan'  gwine  ter  take 
'im,  wuz  you,  honey?"  This  question  was  ad 
dressed  to  Buster  John,  who  scorned  to  answer  it. 

"  Grown  people  would  n't  understand  me," 
Mr.  Thimblefinger  explained.  "  They  know  a 
great  deal  too  much  to  suit  me." 

"  How  do  you  get  to  your  country  ?  "  inquired 
Buster  John,  who  was  keen  for  an  adventure. 

"  The  nearest  way  is  by  the  spring,"  replied 
Mr.  Thimblefinger.  "  That  is  the  only  way  you' 
could  go." 

"  Can  I  go  too  ?  "  asked  Sweetest  Susan.  "  And 
Drusilla?" 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Thimblefinger, 
shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  One  can  go  or  all  can 

go-" 

"  Do  you  go  down  the  spring  branch  ?  "  asked 

Buster  John. 


FOLLOWING  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER 


MR.  THIMBLEFINGER'S   QUEER   COUNTRY.  25 

"  No,  no,"  replied  Mr.  Thimblefinger.  "  Below 
the  spring  and  below  the  branch." 

"  Do  you  mean  under  the  spring  ?  "  Sweetest 
Susan  inquired,  with  some  hesitation. 

"  That 's  it,"  cried  Mr.  Thimblefinger.  "  Right 
down  through  the  spring  and  under  it." 

"Why,  we'd  drown,"  said  Sweetest  Susan. 
"  The  spring  is  deep." 

"  Well,  you  '11  ha'  ter  'skuze  me,"  exclaimed 
Drusilla.  "  Dat  water 's  too  wet  fer  me." 

Buster  John  waited  for  an  explanation,  but 
none  was  forthcoming. 

"  We  could  n't  go  through  the  spring,  you 
know,"  he  said  presently. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Thimblefin 
ger  slyly.  "  Did  you  ever  try  it  ?  " 

He  asked  each  of  the  children  this,  and  the 
reply  was  that  none  of  them  had  ever  tried  it. 

"  I  put  my  foot  in  it  once,"  said  Buster  John, 
"  and  the  water  was  just  like  other  spring  water. 
I  know  we  can't  go  through  it." 

"  Come  now !  "  Mr.  Thimblefinger  suggested, 
"  don't  say  you  know.  Sometimes  people  live  to 
be  very  old  and  don't  know  the  very  things  they 
ought  to  know." 


26  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  But  I  know  that,"  replied  Buster  John  con 
fidently. 

"  Very  well,  then,"  said  Mr.  Thimblefinger, 
pulling  out  a  tiny  watch,  "  did  you  ever  feel  of 
the  water  in  the  spring  at  precisely  nine  minutes 
and  nine  seconds  after  twelve  o'clock  ?  " 

"  N-o-o-o,"  replied  Buster  John,  taken  by  sur 
prise,  "  I  don't  think  I  ever  did." 

"Of  course  not!"  cried  Mr.  Thimblefinger 
gayly.  "  You  had  no  reason.  Well,  at  nine 
minutes  and  nine  seconds  after  twelve  o'clock  the 
water  in  the  spring  is  not  wet.  It  is  as  dry  as 
the  air  we  breathe.  It  is  now  two  minutes  after 
twelve  o'clock.  We  '11  go  to  the  spring,  wait 
until  the  time  comes,  and  then  you  will  see  for 
yourselves." 

As  they  went  toward  the  spring  —  Mr.  Thim 
blefinger  running  on  before  with  wonderful  agil 
ity —  Drusilla  touched  Sweetest  Susan  on  the 
arm.  "  Honey,"  said  she,  "  don't  let  dat  creetur 
pull  you  in  de  spring.  Goodness  knows,  ef  he 
puts  his  han'  on  me  I  'm  gwine  ter  squall." 

"Will  you  hush?"  exclaimed  Buster  John 
impatiently. 

"Watch   out,   now,"    said   Drusilla   defiantly. 


Mil.   THIMBLEFINGER'S   QUEER   COUNTRY.    27 

"  Ef  you  gits  drownded  in  dar  I  '11  sho'  tell  yo* 
ma." 

Fortunately,  there  was  no  one  near  the  spring, 
so  Mr.  Thiinblefiiiger  advanced  boldly,  followed 
closely  by  the  children,  though  Drusilla  seemed 
to  hang  back  somewhat  doubtfully.  When  they 
arrived  there,  Mr.  Thimblefinger  took  out  his  tiny 
timepiece  and  held  it  in  his  hand.  The  children 
watched  him  with  breathless  interest,  especially 
Buster  John,  who  was  thrilled  with  the  idea  of 
having  an  adventure  entirely  different  from  any 
that  he  had  read  of  in  the  story-books. 

As  the  little  man  stood  there  holding  his  watch 
and  looking  at  it  intently,  the  dinner-bell  rang, 
first  in  the  hallway  and  then  in  the  back  porch. 
The  children  remembered  it  afterward. 

"  You  all  better  go  git  yo'  dinner  'fo'  it  git 
col',  stidder  projeckin'  'roun'  here  wid  you  dunner 
what,"  remarked  Drusilla. 

"Now!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  ~"  put 
your  hand  in  the  spring." 

Buster  John  did  as  he  was  bid,  and,  to  his 
amazement,  he  could  feel  no  water.  He  could 
see  it,  but  he  could  n't  feel  it.  He  turned  pale 
with  excitement  and  withdrew  his  hand.  Then 


28  LITTLE   MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

he  put  his  other  hand  in,  but  the  result  was  the 
same.  He  plunged  his  arm  in  up  to  the  elbow, 
but  his  sleeve  remained  perfectly  dry. 

"  Try  it,  sis,"  he  cried. 

Sweetest  Susan  did  so,  and  boldly  declared 
there  was  no  water  in  the  spring.  She  wanted 
Drusilla  to  try  to  wet  her  hand,  but  Drusilla  sul 
lenly  declined. 

Mr.  Thimblefinger  settled  the  matter  by  walk 
ing  into  the  spring. 

"  Now,  then,  if  you  are  going,  come  along," 
he  cried.  "  You  have  just  seventeen  and  a  half 
seconds."  He  waved  his  hand  from  the  bottom 
of  the  spring  and  stood  waiting.  A  spring  lizard 
ran  near  him,  and  he  drew  his  sword  and  chased 
it  into  a  hole.  A  crawfish  showed  its  head,  and 
he  drove  it  away.  Then  he  waved  his  hand 
again.  "  Come  on,  the  coast  is  clear." 

Buster  John  put  his  hand  in  the  water  again, 
and  this  seemed  to  satisfy  him.  He  stepped 
boldly  into  the  spring,  and  in  a  moment  he  stood 
by  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  laughing,  but  still  excited 
by  the  novelty  of  his  experience.  He  called  to 
his  sister :  — 

"  Come  on,  sis.     It 's  splendid  down  here." 


MR.  THIMBLEFINGER'S   QUEER   COUNTRY.   29 

"  Is  it  wet  ?  "  she  asked  plaintively.  "  Is  it 
cold?" 

"  No ! "  replied  Buster  John  impatiently. 
"  Don't  be  a  baby." 

"  Come  on,  Drusilla  !  You  've  got  to  come, 
Mamma  said  you  must  go  wherever  we  went/* 
cried  Sweetest  Susan. 

"  No,  ma'am !  "  exclaimed  Drusilla,  with  em 
phasis.  "  She  ain't  tol'  me  ter  foller  you  in  de 
fier  an'  needer  in  de  water  !  " 

But  Sweetest  Susan  did  n't  wait  to  hear.  She 
jumped  into  the  spring  with  a  splash  and  then 
stood  by  her  brother  very  red  in  the  face. 

"  Five  more  seconds ! "  cried  Mr.  Thimble- 
finger  in  a  businesslike  way. 

Drusilla  looked  in  the  spring  and  hesitated. 
She  could  see  the  water  plain  enough,  but  then 
she  could  also  see  Sweetest  Susan  and  Buster 
John,  and  they  seemed  to  be  very  comfortable. 

"  I  'm  comin',"  she  yelled,  "  but  ef  you  all 
make  me  git  drownded  in  dry  water  I  '11  ha'nt  you 
ef  it 's  de  las'  thing  I  do  !  " 

Then  she  shut  her  eyes  tight,  put  her  fingers 
in  her  ears,  and  leaped  into  the  spring.  She 
floundered  around  with  her  eyes  still  shut,  and 


30  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

gasped  and  caught  her  breath  just  like  a  drown 
ing  person,  until  she  heard  the  others  laughing 
at  her,  and  then  she  opened  her  eyes  with  as 
tonishment. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  loud,  splashing  sound 
heard  above  and  around  them  and  under  their 
feet. 

"  "Watch  out ! "  cried  Mr.  Thimblefinger. 
"  Run  this  way !  The  water  is  getting  wet 
again ! " 

The  way  seemed  to  widen  before  them  as  they 
ran,  and  in  a  moment  they  found  themselves 
below  the  "  gum,"  or  "  curb,"  of  the  spring  and 
beyond  it.  But  as  they  went  forward  the  bot 
tom  of  the  spring  seemed  to  grow  and  expand, 
and  the  sun  shining  through  gave  a  soft  light 
that  was  very  pleasant  to  the  eye.  The  grass 
was  green  and  the  leaves  of  the  trees  and  the 
flowers  were  pale  pink  and  yellow. 

Mr.  Thimblefinger  seemed  to  be  very  happy. 
He  ran  along  before  the  children  as  nimbly  as  a 
killdee,  talking  and  laughing  all  the  time.  Pres 
ently  Drusilla,  who  brought  up  the  rear,  sud 
denly  stopped  in  her  tracks  and  looked  around. 
Then  she  uttered  an  exclamation  of  fright. 


MR.  THIMBLEFINGER'S  QUEER   COUNTRY.  31- 

Sweetest  Susan  and  Buster  John  paused  to  see 
what  was  the  matter. 

"  Wharbouts  did  we  come  in  at  ?  "  she  asked. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  the  children  saw  that 
the  bottom  of  the  spring  had  seemed  to  expand, 
until  it  spread  over  their  heads  and  around  on  all 
sides  as  the  sky  does  in  our  country. 

"  Don't  bother  about  that,"  said  Mr.  Thimble- 
finger.  "  No  matter  how  big  it  looks,  it 's  no 
thing  but  the  bottom  of  the  spring  after  all." 

"  But  how  are  we  to  get  out,  please  ?  "  asked 
Sweetest  Susan. 

"  The  same  way  you  came  in,"  said  Mr.  Thim- 
blefinger. 

"  I  tol'  you  !  I  toP  you  !  "  exclaimed  Drusilla, 
swinging  her  right  arm  up  and  down  vigorously. 
"  Ef  you  kin  fly  you  kin  git  out,  an'  you  look 
much  like  flyin'.  Dat  what  you  git  by  not 
mindin'  me  an'  yo'  ma  !  " 

"Tut!  tut!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Thimblefinger. 
"  I  '11  '  sice '  the  Katydids  on  you  if  you  doa't 
stop  scaring  the  little  girl.  Come  !  we  are  not 
far  from  my  house.  We  '11  go  there  and  see 
what  the  neighbors  have  sent  in  for  dinner." 

Buster  John  followed  him  as  readily  as  before, 


32  LITTLE  MR.   THIMBLEFINGER. 

but  Sweetest  Susan  and  Drusilla  were  not  so 
eager.  They  had  no  device,  however,  and  Dru 
silla  made  the  best  of  it. 

"  I  ain't  skeered  ez  I  wuz.  He  talk  mo'  and 
mo'  like  folks." 

So  they  went  on  toward  Mr.  Thimblefmger's 
house. 


III. 

MR.  THIMBLEFINGER'S  FRIENDS. 

"I  HOPE  you  are  not  tired,"  said  Mr.  Thim- 
blefinger  to  Sweetest  Susan  when  they  had  been 
on  their  way  for  some  little  time.  "  Because  if 
you  are  you  can  rest  yourself  by  taking  longer 
steps." 

Buster  John  was  ready  to  laugh  at  this,  but  he 
soon  discovered  that  Mr.  Thimblefinger  was  right. 
He  found  that  he  could  hop  and  jump  ever  so  far 
in  this  queer  country,  and  the  first  use  he  made 
of  the  discovery  was  to  jump  over  Drusilla's  head. 
This  he  did  with  hardly  any  effort.  After  that 
the  journey  of  the  children,  which  had  grown 
somewhat  tiresome  (though  they  would  n't  say  so), 
became  a  frolic.  They  skimmed  along  over  the 
gray  fields  with  no  trouble  at  all,  but  Drusilla 
found  it  hard  to  retain  her  balance  when  she 
jumped  high.  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  who  had  a 
reason  for  everything,  was  puzzled  at  this.  He 
paused  a  while  and  stood  thinking  and  rubbing  his 


34  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

chin.  Then  he  said  that  either  Drusilla's  head 
was  too  light  or  her  heels  too  heavy  —  he  could  n't 
for  the  life  of  him  tell  which. 

There  was  one  thing  that  bothered  the  chil 
dren.  If  Mr.  Thimblefinger's  house  was  just  big 
'mough  to  fit  him  (as  Buster  John  expressed  it), 
how  could  they  go  inside  ?  Sweetest  Susan  was 
so  troubled  that  she  asked  Drusilla  about  it.  But 
Drusilla  shook  her  head  vigorously. 

"  Don't  come  axin'  me,"  she  cried.  "  I  done 
tol'  you  all  right  pine-blank  not  ter  come.  Ef  de 
house  lil'  like  dat  creetur  is,  what  you  gwine  do 
when  night  come  ?  En  den  spozen  'pon  top  er 
dat  dat  a  big  rain  come  up  ?  Oh,  I  tol'  you  'fo' 
you  started  !  Who  in  de  name  er  sense  ever  heah 
talk  er  folks  gwine  down  in  a  spring  ?  You 
mought  er  know'd  sump'in  gwine  ter  happen.  Oh, 
I  tol'  you  !  " 

There  was  no  denying  this,  and  Sweetest  Susan 
and  her  brother  were  beginning  to  feel  anxious, 
when  an  exclamation  from  Mr.  Thimblefinger  at 
tracted  their  attention. 

"  We  are  nearly  there,"  he  shouted.  "  Yon 
der  is  the  house.  My !  won't  the  family  be  sur 
prised  when  they  see  you  !  " 


MR.  THIMBLEFINGER'S  FRIENDS.  35 

Sure  enough  there  was  the  house,  and  it  was 
not  a  small  one,  either.  Drusilla  said  it  looked 
more  like  a  barn  than  a  house,  but  Buster  John 
said  it  did  n't  make  any  difference  what  it  looked 
like  so  long  as  they  could  rest  there  and  get  some 
thing  to  eat,  for  they  had  had  no  dinner. 

"  I  hope  dey  got  sho  'nuff  vittles  —  pot-licker 
an'  dumplin's,  an'  sump'inyou  kin  fill  up  wid," 
said  Drusilla  heartily. 

Mr.  Thimblefinger,  who  had  been  running 
a  little  way  ahead,  suddenly  paused  and  waited 
for  the  children  to  come  up. 

"  Come  to  think  of  it,"  he  remarked,  "  you 
may  have  heard  of  some  of  my  family.  I  call 
them  my  family,  but  they  are  no  kin  to  me.  We 
just  live  together  in  the  same  house  for  company's 
sake." 

"  They  are  not  fairies  ? "  suggested  Sweetest 
Susan. 

Mr.  Thimblefinger  shook  his  head.  "  Oh,  no  ! 
Just  common  every-day  people  like  myself.  We 
put  on  no  airs.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Mrs. 
Meadows?  And  Mr.  Rabbit?  And  Mrs.  Rab 
bit?" 

"  Dem  what  wuz  in  de  tale  ?  "  asked  Drusilla. 


36  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  "the  very 
same  persons." 

"  Sho  'nuff  !  "  exclaimed  Drusilla.  "  Why,  we 
been  hear  talk  er  dem  sence  'fo'  we  wuz  knee- 
high." 

Sweetest  Susan  and  Buster  John  said  they  had 
often  heard  of  Mr.  Rabbit  and  Mrs.  Meadows. 
This  seemed  to  please  Mr.  Thimblefinger  very 
much.  He  smiled  and  nodded  approval. 

"  Did  they  ever  have  you  in  a  story  ?  "  asked 
Buster  John. 

"  No,  no  !  "  replied  Mr.  Thimblefinger.  "  I  was 
so  little  they  forgot  me."  He  laughed  at  his  own 
joke,  but  it  was  very  plain  that  he  did  n't  relish 
the  idea  of  not  having  his  name  in  a  book. 

Presently  the  children  came  to  the  house,  but 
they  hesitated  at  the  gate  and  stood  there  in  fear 
and  trembling.  What  they  saw  was  enough  to 
frighten  them.  An  old  woman  was  sitting  in  a 
chair  knitting.  She  was  not  different  from  many 
old  women  the  children  had  seen,  but  near  her 
sat  a  Rabbit  as  big  as  a  man.  He  was  a  tremen 
dous  creature,  grizzly  and  gray,  and  watery-eyed 
from  age.  He  sat  in  a  rocking-chair  smoking  a 
pipe. 


MR.   RABBIT  AND   MRS.   MEADOWS 


MR.  THIMBLEFINGER'S  FRIENDS.  37 

"  Le'  's  go  back,"  whispered  Brasilia.  "  Dat 
ar  creetur  bigger  dan  a  hoss.  Ef  he  git  a  glinip' 
us  we  er  gone  —  gone !  " 

Sweetest  Susan  shivered  and  looked  at  Buster 
John,  and  Buster  John  looked  at  Mr.  Thimble- 
finger.  But  Mr.  Thimblefihger  ran  forward,  cry 
ing  out :  — 

"  Howdy,  folks,  howdy  !  I  've  brought  some 
friends  home  to  dinner."  He  beckoned  to  the 
children.  "  Come  on  and  see  Mrs.  Meadows  and 
Mr.  Rabbit." 

Mrs.  Meadows  immediately  dropped  her  knit 
ting  in  her  lap,  and  threw  her  hands  up  to  her 
head,  as  if  to  arrange  her  hair. 

"Come  in,"  said  Mr.  Thimblefinger  to  the 
children. 

"  Yes,  come  on,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Rabbit  in  a 
voice  that  sounded  as  if  he  had  a  bad  cold. 

"  I  'm  in  no  fix  to  be  seen,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows, 
"  but  I  'm  glad  to  see  you,  anyhow.  Come  right 
in.  Take  off  your  things  and  make  yourself  at 
home.  How  did  you  get  here?  I  reckon  that 
little  trick  there  has  been  telling  tales  out  of 
school."  She  pointed  at  Mr.  Thimblefinger  and 
laughed. 


38  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  He  brought  us,"  said  Sweetest  Susan.  "  I  'm 
sorry  we  came." 

"Now,  don't  say  that,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Meadows  kindly.  "What  are  you  afraid  of  ?  " 

"  Of  him,"  replied  Sweetest  Susan,  nodding 
her  head  toward  Mr.  Rabbit. 

"Is  that  all?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Meadows. 
"  Why,  he 's  as  harmless  as  a  kitten." 

"  Yes,  yes !  "  said  Mr.  Rabbit  complacently. 
"  No  harm  in  me  —  no  harm  in  old  people.  Just 
give  us  a  little  room  in  the  corner  —  a  little  place 
where  we  can  sit  and  nod  —  and  there 's  no 
harm  in  us.  I  'm  just  as  glad  you  've  come  as 
I  can  be.  I  see  you  've  brought  the  Tar  Baby. 
She 's  grown  some  since  I  saw  her  last."  Mr. 
Rabbit  looked  at  Drusilla  with  considerable  curi 
osity.  "  I  hope  she 's  not  as  sticky  as  she  used 
to  be." 

"Hey!  "cried  Buster  John,  laughing.  "Mr. 
Rabbit  thinks  Drusilla  is  the  Tar  Baby !  " 

Drusilla  tossed  her  head  scornfully.  "  Huh  ! 
I  ain't  no  Tar  Baby.  I  may  be  a  nigger,  an' 
I  speck  I  is,  but  I  ain't  no  Tar  Baby.  My 
mammy  done  tol'  me  'bout  de  Tar  Baby  in  de 
tale,  an'  she  got  it  fum  her  gran' daddy.  Ef  I  'm 


MR.  THIMBLEFINGER'S  FRIENDS.  39 

de  Tar  Baby,  I  'm  older  dan  my  mammy's  gran'- 
daddy." 

Mr.  Rabbit  took  off  his  spectacles  and  wiped 
them  on  his  coat-tail.  "  My  eyes  are  getting  very 
bad,"  he  said,  by  way  of  apology.  "  But  you 
certainly  look  very  much  like  the  Tar  Baby.  If 
you  were  both  together  in  the  dark,  nobody 
could  tell  you  apart.  Well,  well !  I  'm  getting 
old." 

"  You  ain't  no  older  dan  you  look,"  said  Dru- 
silla  spitefully  under  her  breath. 

"  Hush  !  "  whispered  Sweetest  Susan.  "  He  '11 
eat  us  up." 

Mrs.  Meadows  laughed.  "  Don't  worry,  child. 
Mr.  Rabbit  loves  his  pipe  and  a  joke,  but  he  '11 
never  hurt  you.  Never  in  the  world." 

"  But  this  is  n't  in  the  world,"  suggested 
Buster  John. 

"  Well,  it 's  next  door,  as  you  may  say,"  Mrs. 
Meadows  replied. 

Just  then  Mr.  Rabbit  slowly  raised  himself 
from  his  chair  and  examined  the  seat  closely.  "  I 
missed  Mr.  Thimblefinger,"  he  said,  "  and  I  was 
afraid  I  had  sat  on  him." 

"  Oh,  no !  "  cried  Mr.  Thimblefiuger,  coming 


40  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

out  from  under  the  steps ;  "  I  was  just'  resting 
myself." 

"  Mr.  Thimblefinger  will  take  care  of  himself, 
I  '11  be  bound,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Meadows.  "  He  's 
little ;  but  is  a  mountain  strong  because  it  is 

big?" 

"  Why,  that  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  story  — 
But  never  mind !  I  'm  always  thinking  about  old 
times."  Mr.  Rabbit  sighed  as  he  said  this. 

"  Oh,  please  tell  us  the  story,"  pleaded  Sweet 
est  Susan,  anxious  to  make  friends  with  Mr.  Rab 
bit. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  Mrs.  Meadows  can  tel) 
it  better  than  I  can." 

"  Dinner  !  "  cried  Mr.  Thimblefinger.  "  What 
about  dinner  ?  " 

"  Dinner  '11  be  ready  directly,"  replied  Mrs. 
Meadows. 

"  But  the  story  ?  "  Sweetest  Susan  said. 

THE  STRONGEST  — WHO?  OR  WHICH? 

"  Well,"  replied  Mrs.  Meadows,  "  it  was  like 
this :  One  time  in  the  country  where  we  came 
from  —  the  country  where  you  live  now  —  there 
chanced  to  be  a  big  frost,  and  the  mill-pond  froze 


MR.  THIMBLEFINGER'S  FRIENDS.  41 

over.  Mr.  Rabbit  ran  along  that  way  and  found 
that  the  pond  had  this  bridge  across  it." 

"  Was  it  this  Mr.  Rabbit  here  ?  "  asked  Buster 
John. 

Mrs.  Meadows  folded  her  hands  in  her  lap  and 
looked  at  them.  "  Well,"  she  said,  "  I  never  talk 
about  folks  behind  their  backs.  You  must  do 
your  own  guessing.  Anyway,  Mr.  Rabbit  found 
the  ice  bridge  over  the  pond,  and  as  he  was  in 
something  of  a  hurry  he  skipped  across  it.  I 
mean  he  skipped  a  part  of  the  way.  The  Ice 
was  so  slippery  that  when  he  got  about  halfway, 
his  feet  slipped  from  under  him  and  he  fell 
kerthump  !  He  got  up  and  rubbed  himself  as 
well  as  he  could,  and  then  he  thought  that  the 
Ice  must  be  very  strong  to  hit  him  so  hard  a  lick. 
He  said  to  the  Ice,  '  You  are  very  strong.' 

" e  I  am  so,'  replied  the  Ice. 

" '  Well,  if  you  are  so  strong,  how  can  the  Sun 
melt  you  ? ' 

"The  Ice  said  nothing,  and  so  Mr.  Rabbit 
asked  the  Sun,  '  Are  you  very  strong  ?  ' 

"  '  So  they  tell  me,'  replied  the  Sun. 

"  '  Then  how  can  the  Clouds  hide  you  ? ' 

"  The  Sun  was  somewhat  ashamed  and    had 


42  LITTLE  MR.   THIMBLEFINGER. 

nothing  to  say.  So  Mr.  Rabbit  looked  at  the 
Clouds. 

" (  Are  you  very  strong  ? ' 

" '  We  have  heard  so,'  replied  the  Clouds. 

"'How  can  the  Wind  blow  you?' 

"The  Clouds  sailed  away,  and  Mr.  Rabbit 
asked  the  Wind,  'Are  you  very  strong  ? ' 

" '  I  believe  you,'  said  the  Wind. 

" '  Then  how  can  the  Mountain  stand  against 
you?' 

"  The  Wind  blew  itself  away,  and  then  Mr. 
Rabbit  asked  the  Mountain,  'Are  you  very 
strong  ? ' 

"  '  So  it  seems,'  replied  the  Mountain. 

"  '  How  can  the  Mouse  make  a  nest  in  you  ?  ' 

"The  Mountain  was  mum.  So  Mr.  Rabbit 
asked  the  Mouse,  '  Are  you  very  strong  ? ' 

" e  I  believe  so,'  replied  the  Mouse. 

"'How  can  the  Cat  catch  you?' 

"  The  Mouse  hid  in  the  grass.  Mr.  Rabbit 
asked  the  Cat,  '  Are  you  very  strong? ' 

"  '  Yes,  indeed,'  replied  the  Cat. 

"  '  How  can  the  Dog  chase  you  ? ' 

"  The  Cat  began  to  wash  her  face.  Then  Mr. 
Rabbit  said  to  the  Dog,  '  Are  you  very  strong  ?  ' 


MR.  THIMBLEFINGEWS  FRIENDS,  43 

" '  I  certainly  am,'  replied  the  Dog. 

"  '  Then  why  does  the  Stick  scare  you  ?  ' 

"  The  Dog  began  to  scratch  the  fleas  off  his 
neck,  and  Mr.  Rabbit  said  to  the  Stick,  '  Are  you 
very  strong  ? ' 

"  '  Everybody  says  so.' 

"  '  Then  how  can  the  Fire  burn  you  ?  ' 

"  The  Stick  was  dumb,  and  Mr.  Rabbit  asked 
the  Fire,  '  Are  you  very  strong  ? ' 

" '  Anybody  will  tell  you  so,'  the  Fire  an 
swered. 

"  '  How  can  the  Water  quench  you  ?  ' 

"  The  Fire  hid  behind  the  smoke.  Then  Mr. 
Rabbit  asked  the  Water, '  Are  you  very  strong  ? ' 

" '  Strong  is  no  name  for  it,'  said  the  Water. 

"  '  How  can  the  Ice  cover  you  ? ' 

"  The  Water  went  running  down  the  river,  and 
after  it  had  gone  the  Ice  said  to  Mr.  Rabbit, 
'  You  see  you  had  to  come  back  to  rne  at  last.' 

"  '  Yes,'  replied  Mr.  Rabbit,  '  and  now  I  am 
going  away.  You  are  too  much  for  me.'  Then 
Mr.  Rabbit  loped  off,  rubbing  his  bruises." 

"  Was  it  really  you,  Mr.  Rabbit  ?  "  asked  Sweet 
est  Susan. 

Mr.  Rabbit  rubbed  his  mustache  with  the  end 


44  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

of  his  pipe-stem.  "  Well,  I  '11  tell  you  tlie  truth. 
I  was  mighty  foolish  in  my  young  days.  But 
now  all  I  want  to  do  is  to  eat  breakfast,  and  then 
wait  until  dinner  is  ready,  and  then  sit  and  wait 
until  supper  is  put  on  the  table." 

Mrs.  Meadows  winked  at  the  children  and  then 
turned  to  Mr.  Rabbit. 

"  Now,"  said  she,  "  I  've  told  the  story  you 
ought  to  have  told,  for  you  know  more  about  it 
than  anybody  else.  It 's  as  little  as  you  can  do 
to  sing  the  old  song  that  you  sung  when  you  used 
to  go  frolicking." 

"  Why,  it 's  about  myself  !  "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Rabbit.  "  At  my  time  of  life  it  would  never 
do." 

"  Please  make  him  sing  it,"  said  Sweetest  Susan, 
who  was  much  given  to  getting  her  own  way  by 
the  pretty  little  art  of  coaxing. 

"Oh,  he'll  sing  it,"  replied  Mrs.  Meadows 
confidently.  "  He  can't  refuse." 

Mr.  Rabbit  shook  his  head,  and  then  seemed  to 
fall  into  a  brown  study,  but  suddenly,  seeing  that 
they  were  all  waiting  for  the  song,  he  cleared  up 
his  throat,  and  after  several  false  starts  sang  this 
song  :  — 


MR.  THIMBLEFINGEKS  FRIENDS.  45 

OH,  THIS  IS  MR.  RABBIT  ! 

Oh,  this  is  Mr.  Rabbit,  that  runs  on  the  grass, 

So  rise  up,  ladies,  and  let  him  pass  ; 

He  courted  Miss  Meadows,  when  her  ma  was  away, 

He  crossed  his  legs,  and  said  his  say. 

He  crossed  his  legs,  and  he  winked  his  eye, 

And  then  he  told  Miss  Meadows  good-by. 

So  it 's  good-by,  ducky, 
And  it 's  good-by,  dear  ! 

I  '11  never  come  to  see  you 

Until  next  year  ! 

For  this  is  Mr.  Rabbit,  that  runs  on  the  grass, 
So  rise  up,  ladies,  and  let  him  pass. 

And  he  cried  from  the  gate,  so  bold  and  free  : 
"  I  know  you  are  glad  to  get  rid  of  me." 

And  then  Miss  Meadows  shook  her  head  — 
"  If  you  stay  too  long  you  '11  find  me  dead. 
And  it 's  good-by,  ducky, 

And  it 's  good-by,  dear  ! 
You  '11  find  me  dead 

When  you  come  next  year  ! " 
For  this  is  Mr.  Rabbit,  that  runs  on  the  grass, 
So  rise  up,  ladies,  and  let  him  pass. 

Mr.  Owl  called  out  from  the  top  of  the  tree, 
"  Oh,  who  ?  Oh,  who  ?  "  and  "  He-he-he  !  " 
Mr.  Fox  slipped  off  in  the  woods  and  cried  ; 
Mr.  Coon's  broken  heart  caused  a  pain  in  his  side. 
For  it 's  good-by,  ducky, 

And  it 's  good-by,  dear  ! 

If  you  ever  come  to  see  me, 

Come  before  next  year  ! 


46  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

For  this  is  Mr.  Rabbit,  that  runs  on  the  grass, 
So  rise  up,  ladies,  and  let  him  pass. 

Mr.  Rabbit  looked  around,  and  saw  all  the  trouble, 
And  he  laughed  and  he  laughed  till  he  bent  over  double. 
He  shook  his  head,  and  said  his  say  — 
u  I  '11  come  a-calling  when  to-morrow  is  to-day. 
For  when  you  have  a  ducky, 
Don't  stay  —  don't  stay  — 
Go  off  and  come  again 

When  to-morrow  is  to-day." 
For  this  is  Mr.  Rabbit,  that  runs  on  the  grass, 
So  rise  up,  ladies,  and  let  him  pass. 


IV. 

TWO    QUEER    STORIES. 

THERE  is  no  doubt  the  children  were  very 
much  surprised  to  see  Mr.  Rabbit.  They  were 
astonished  to  find  that  he  was  so  large  and 
solemn-looking.  When  the  negroes  on  the  plan 
tation  told  them  about  Mr.  Rabbit  —  or  Bro 
ther  Rabbit,  as  he  was  sometimes  called — they 
had  imagined  that  he  was  no  larger  than  the  rab 
bits  they  saw  in  the  sedge-field  or  in  the  barley- 
patch,  but  this  Mr.  Rabbit  was  larger  than  a 
dozen  of  them  put  together. 

In  one  way  or  another  Sweetest  Susan  and 
Buster  John  and  Drusilla  showed  their  amaze 
ment  very  plainly  —  especially  Drusilla,  who  took 
no  pains  to  conceal  hers.  Every  time  Mr.  Rab 
bit  moved  she  would  nudge  Sweetest  Susan  or 
Buster  John  and  exclaim :  "  Look  at  dat !  "  or, 
"  We  better  be  gwine  !  "  or,  "  Spozen  Brer  Fox 
er  Brer  Wolf  come  up  an'  dey  er  dat  big ! " 

Mrs.  Meadows  noticed  this ;  indeed,  she  could 
not  help  noticing  it.  And  so  she  said  :  — 


48  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"I  reckon  maybe  you  expected  to  find  Mr. 
Rabbit  no  bigger  than  the  rest  of  his  family  that 
live  in  your  country." 

Before  the  children  could  make  any  answer, 
Mr.  Rabbit  began  to  chuckle,  and  he  chuckled 
so  heartily  that  Sweetest  Susan  was  afraid  he 
would  choke. 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  laugh,"  said  Mrs.  Mead 
ows,  elevating  her  voice  a  little,  as  if  Mr.  Rabbit 
were  a  little  deaf. 

"It  may  not  be  polite  to  laugh  in  company," 
replied  Mr.  Rabbit,  "  but  I  am  obliged  to  do  it." 
His  voice  was  wheezy,  and  he  nodded  his  head 
vigorously.  "  Yes,  I  am  obliged  to  do  it.  Why, 
I  could  put  one  of  those  poor  creatures  in  my 
coat-pocket.  They  are  not  Rabbits.  They  are 
Runts.  Yes,  Runts.  That's  what  they  are. 
And  to  think,  too,  that  their  great-grandparents 
might  have  come  here  when  I  did.  But,  no ! 
They  would  n't  hear  to  it.  No  new  country  for 
them,  they  said.  And  so  they  stayed  where  they 
were,  and  the  breed  has  dwindled  down  to  —  to 
nothing.  I  '11  be  bound  they  have  forgotten  how 
to  talk."  He  turned  to  the  children  with  a  look 
of  inquiry. 


TWO  QUEER  STORIES.  49 

"  Why,  of  course,  rabbits  can't  talk,"  said 
Buster  John. 

Mr.  Rabbit  shook  his  head  sadly  and  put  his 
hand  to  his  eyes.  "  Well,  well,  well !  "  he  ex 
claimed  after  a  while.  "  Can't  talk !  But  I 
might  have  known  it.  The  family 's  gone  to 
seed.  I  'm  glad  I  'm  not  there  to  see  it  all. 
A  neighbor  here  and  there  does  no  harm, 
but  when  people  began  to  crowd  in  I  concluded 
to  move,  and  I  'm  glad  I  did.  I  'm  old  and  get 
ting  feeble,  but,  thank  gracious,  I  'm  not  a 
Runt." 

"  I  don't  see  but  you  're  as  nimble  as  ever  you 
were,"  remarked  Mrs.  Meadows  soothingly. 

"  I  know  —  I  know  ! "  Mr.  Rabbit  insisted  ; 
"  I  may  be  as  nimble,  but  I  'm  not  as  keen  for  a 
frolic  as  I  used  to  be.  The  chimney-corner  suits 
me  better  than  a  barbecue."  Mr.  Rabbit  closed 
his  big  eyes  and  sighed.  "  Well,  well  —  every 
body  to  his  time,  everybody  to  his  taste  !  " 

Mrs.  Meadows  nodded  her  head  approvingly. 
"  Yes  ;  between  first  one  thing  and  then  another, 
there 's  lots  of  time  and  a  heap  of  tastes." 

"They  tell  me,"  remarked  Mr.  Rabbit  sud 
denly,  "  that  things  have  got  to  that  pass  in  the 


50  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

country  we  came  from  that  even  Mr.  Billy-Goat, 
who  used  to  eat  meat,  has  dwindled  away  in 
mind  and  body  till  he  hangs  around  the  stable 
doors  and  eats  straw  for  a  living.  That 's  what 
Mr.  Thimblefinger  says,  and  he  ought  to  know. 
I  suppose  Billy  is  still  bob-tailed  ?  I  remember 
the  very  day  he  had  his  tail  broken  off." 
"  Tell  us  about  it,"  remarked  Buster  John. 

WHY  MR.  BILLY-GOAT'S  TAIL  IS  SHORT. 

"  Oh,  it  does  n't  amount  to  much,"  said  he. 
"It's  hardly  worth  talking  about.  I  think  it 
was  one  Saturday.  In  those  days,  you  know,  we 
used  to  have  a  half-holiday  every  Saturday.  We 
worked  hard  all  the  week,  and  we  tried  to  crowd 
as  much  fun  into  a  half-holiday  as  possible. 
Well,  one  Saturday  afternoon  Mr.  Billy-Goat  and 
Mr.  Dog  were  walking  arm  in  arm  along  the 
road,  talking  and  laughing  in  a  sociable  way, 
when  all  of  a  sudden  a  big  rain  came  up.  Mr. 
Billy-Goat  said  he  was  mighty  sorry  he  left  his 
parasol  at  home,  because  the  rain  was  apt  to 
make  his  horns  rust.  Mr.  Dog  shook  himself 
and  said  he  did  n't  mind  water,  because  when  he 
got  wet  the  fleas  quit  biting. 


TWO   QUEER  STORIES.  51 

"  But  Mr.  Billy-Goat  hurried  on  and  Mr.  Dog 
kept  up  with  him  until  they  came  to  Mr.  Wolf's 
house,  and  they  ran  into  the  front  porch  for 
shelter.  The  door  was  shut  tight,  but  Mr.  Billy- 
Goat  had  on  his  high-heel  shoes  that  day,  and  he 
made  so  much  noise  as  he  tramped  about  that 
Mr.  Wolf  opened  his  window  and  looked  out. 
When  he  saw  who  it  was,  he  cried  out :  — 

"  '  Hallo  !  this  is  not  a  nice  day  to  pay  visits, 
but  since  you  are  here,  you  may  as  well  come  in 
out  of  the  wet.' 

"  But  Mr.  Dog  shook  his  head  and  flirted  up 
dirt  by  scratching  on  the  ground  with  his  feet. 
He  had  smelled  blood.  Mr.  Billy-Goat  saw  how 
Mr.  Dog  acted,  and  he  was  afraid  to  go  in.  So 
he  shook  his  horns. 

" '  You'd  just  as  well  come  in  and  sit  by  the 
fire,'  said  Mr.  Wolf,  unlatching  the  door. 

"But  Mr.  Dog  and  Mr.  Billy-Goat  thanked 
him  kindly,  and  said  they  did  n't  want  to  carry 
mud  into  the  house.  They  said  they  would  just 
stand  in  the  porch  till  the  shower  passed  over. 
Then  Mr.  Wolf  took  down  his  fiddle,  tuned  it  up, 
and  began  to  play.  In  his  day  and  time  few 
could  beat  him  playing  the  fiddle.  And  this 


52  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

time  he  played  his  level  best,  for  he  knew  that  if 
he  could  start  Mr.  Billy-Goat  to  dancing  he  'd 
have  him  for  dinner." 

"  I  don't  see  how,"  said  Buster  John. 

"  Well,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Rabbit,  "  if  Mr.  Billy- 
Goat  began  to  dance  he  would  be  likely  to  dance 
until  he  got  tired,  and  then  it  would  be  an  easy 
matter  for  Mr.  Wolf  to  outrun  him." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Sweetest  Susan. 

"Well,"  Mr.  Rabbit  continued,  "Mr.  Wolf 
kept  on  playing  the  fiddle,  but  Mr.  Billy-Goat 
did  n't  dance.  Not  only  that,  he  kept  so  near  the 
edge  of  the  porch  that  the  rain  drifted  in  on  his 
horns  and  ran  down  his  long  beard.  But  he 
kept  his  eye  on  Mr.  Wolf.  After  playing  the 
fiddle  till  he  was  tired,  Mr.  Wolf  asked  :  — 

" '  How  do  you  get  your  meat,  my  young 
friends  ?  ' 

"  Mr.  Dog  said  he  depended  on  his  teeth,  and 
Mr.  Billy-Goat,  thinking  to  be  on  the  safe  side, 
said  he  also  depended  upon  his  teeth. 

"  '  As  for  me,'  cried  Mr.  Wolf,  '  I  depend  on 
my  feet ! '  and  with  that  he  dropped  his  fiddle 
and  jumped  at  Mr.  Billy-Goat.  But  he  knocked 
the  broom  down  and  the  handle  tripped  him.  It 


MR.  BILLY-GOAT  AND  MR.  WOLF 


TWO   QUEER  STORIES.  53 

was  all  very  sudden,  but  by  the  time  Mr.  Wolf 
had  recovered  himself  Mr.  Billy-Goat  and  Mr. 
Dog  had  gone  a  considerable  distance. 

"  They  ran  and  ran  until  they  came  to  a  big 
creek.  Mr.  Billy-Goat  asked  Mr.  Dog  how  he 
was  going  to  get  across. 

"  '  Swim,'  said  Mr.  Dog. 

"  '  Then  I  '11  have  to  bid  you  good-by,'  replied 
Mr.  Billy-Goat,  '  for  I  can't  swim  a  stroke.' 

"  By  this  time  they  had  arrived  at  the  bank  of 
the  creek,  and  they  could  hear  Mr.  Wolf  coming 
through  the  woods.  They  had  no  time  to  lose. 
Mr.  Dog  looked  around  on  the  ground,  gathered 
some  jan-weed,  yan-weed,  and  tan-weed,  rubbed 
them  together,  and  squeezed  a  drop  of  the  juice 
on  Mr.  Billy-Goat's  horns.  He  had  no  sooner 
done  this  than  Mr.  Billy-Goat  was  changed  into 
a  white  rock. 

"  Then  Mr.  Dog  leaped  into  the  creek  and 
swam  across.  Mr.  Wolf  ran  to  the  bank,  but 
there  he  stopped.  The  water  was  so  wide  it 
made  tears  come  in  his  eyes ;  so  deep  that  it  made 
his  legs  ache ;  and  so  cold  that  it  made  his  body 
shiver. 

"  When  Mr.  Dog  arrived  safely  on  the  other 


54  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

side  he  cried  out, '  Aha !  you  are  afraid !  You  've 
drowned  poor  Mr.  Billy-Goat,  but  you  are  afraid 
of  me.  I  dare  you  to  fling  a  rock  at  me ! ' 

"  This  made  Mr.  Wolf  so  mad  that  he  seized 
the  white  rock  and  threw  it  at  Mr.  Dog  with  all 
his  might.  It  fell  near  Mr.  Dog,  and  instantly 
became  Mr.  Billy-Goat  again.  But  in  falling  a 
piece  was  broken  off,  and  it  happened  to  be  Mr. 
BiUy-Goat's  tail.  Ever  since  then  he  has  had  a 
very  short  tail." 

"  Were  you  there,  Mr.  Rabbit?  "  asked  Sweet 
est  Susan  bluntly. 

"  I  was  fishing  at  the  time,"  replied  Mr.  Rab 
bit.  "  I  heard  the  noise  they  made,  and  I  turned 
around  and  saw  it  just  as  I  've  told  you." 

Drusilla  touched  Buster  John  on  the  arm. 
"  We  ain't  dreamin',  is  we,  honey  ?  " 

Buster  John  looked  at  her  scornfully.  "What 
put  that  in  your  head  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Suppose  the  rock  had  hit  Mr.  Dog  ? "  sug 
gested  Sweetest  Susan. 

THE  PUMPKIN-EATER. 

"Now,  that 's  so  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Thimblefin- 
ger.  "And  it  reminds  me  of  a  little  accident 


TWO   QUEER  STORIES.  55 

that  happened  in  my  mother's  family.  But  it 's 
hardly  worth  telling." 

"  Well,  tell  it,  anyhow,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows. 

"Yes,"  remarked  Mr.  Rabbit,  "the  proof  of 
the  pudding  is  in  chewing  the  bag." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  "as  far  back 
as  I  can  remember,  and  before  that,  too,  my 
mother  was  a  widow,  and  she  had  a  great  many 
children  to  take  care  of.  The  reason  she  had  so 
many  children  was  because  she  was  poor.  I  have 
noticed  all  my  life  that  when  people  are  very 
poor  they  happen  to  have  more  children  than 
they  know  what  to  do  with.  This  was  the  way 
with  my  mother.  She  had  a  houseful  of  chil 
dren,  and  she  found  it  a  hard  matter  to  get 
along. 

"  One  day  she  went  down  to  the  creek  to  wash 
the  clothes,  such  as  she  and  the  children  had,  and 
when  she  got  there  she  found  an  old  man  sitting 
on  the  bank.  He  said,  '  Howdy,'  and  she  said, 
'  Good-morning,'  and  then  he  asked  her  if  she 
would  be  so  good  as  to  wash  his  coat  and  his 
waistcoat.  She  said  she  would  be  glad  to  do 
so,  and  the  old  man  said  he  would  be  very  much 
obliged.  So  my  mother  washed  the  coat  and 


56  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

waistcoat.  Then  he  asked  her  if  she  would  comb 
his  hair  for  him,  and  she  did  so. 

"  The  old  man  thanked  her  kindly,  and  took 
from  his  pocket  a  string  of  red  beads  and  made 
her  a  present  of  them.  Then  he  told  her  to  go 
out  behind  the  house  when  she  got  home,  and 
there  she  'd  find  a  pumpkin- tree  growing.  He 
said  that  she  must  bury  the  string  of  beads  at 
the  foot  of  the  tree. 

" '  That 's  a  pity,'  exclaimed  my  mother ;  '  they 
are  so  beautiful.' 

"  But  the  old  man  declared  that  she  must  do 
as  he  said,  and  after  that  she  was  to  go  to  the 
pumpkin-tree  every  day  and  ask  for  as  many 
pumpkins  as  she  wanted. 

"  My  mother  went  home  and  found  the  pump 
kin-tree  where  never  a  tree  had  been  growing 
before,  and  at  its  roots  she  buried  the  string  of 
beads.  Next  morning,  bright  and  early,  she 
went  to  the  pumpkin-tree  and  called  for  one 
pumpkin.  Down  it  dropped  from  the  tree.  For 
a  long  time  my  mother  and  her  children  were 
happy  and  growing  fat.  Every  day  a  big  pump 
kin  would  be  cooked,  and  as  my  mother  had  to 
leave  us  so  as  to  attend  to  her  work,  enough 


MY  MOTHER  WASHING  THE  OLD  MAN'S  COAT 
AND  WAISTCOAT 


TWO   QUEER  STORIES.  57 

pumpkin  would  be  left  in  the  pot  to  last  us  all 
day. 

"  I  remember  that  time  very  well,"  Mr. 
Thimblefinger  continued,  with  a  sigh,  "  for  I  was 
getting  fat  and  growing  to  be  almost  as  large  as 
the  rest  of  the  children.  But  one  day,  as  my 
mother  was  going  out  to  work  she  found  a  ham 
per  basket  on  the  gate-post,  and  in  that  basket 
was  a  baby.  So  she  carried  the  baby  in  the 
house,  gave  it  something  to  eat,  and  then  put  it 
on  the  floor  to  play  with  the  rest.  But  as  soon 
as  she  got  out  of  the  yard  the  baby  crawled  to 
the  pot  where  the  cooked  pumpkin  was,  and  ate 
and  ate  until  there  was  no  pumpkin  left.  Of 
course,  the  rest  of  the  children  had  to  go  hungry. 
And  when  my  mother  came  home  she  had  to  go 
hungry,  too. 

"  She  was  very  much  surprised.  She  found  all 
the  pumpkin  gone  and  the  children  crying  for 
something  to  eat,  and  the  stray  baby  was  crying 
louder  than  any.  She  said  we  were  the  greediest 
children  she  had  ever  seen. 

"  The  next  day  she  cooked  two  pumpkins,  but 
the  same  thing  happened.  The  baby  went  to 
the  pot  and  ate  both.  The  children  told  her  how 


58  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

it  happened,  but  she  wouldn't  believe  them. 
She  said  she  could  n't  be  made  to  believe  that  one 
puny  little  baby  could  eat  two  whole  pumpkins  — 
and  it  is  very  queer,  when  you  come  to  think 
about  it. 

"  The  next  day  she  cooked  three  pumpkins,  but 
the  same  thing  happened.  Then  four,  then  five, 
then  six.  But  it  was  always  the  same.  No  mat 
ter  how  many  pumpkins  were  cooked,  the  stray 
baby  would  eat  them  all,  and  the  rest  of  the  chil 
dren  would  have  to  go  hungry.  You  see  how 
small  I  am,"  said  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  suddenly 
pausing  in  the  thread  of  his  story.  "  Well,  the 
reason  of  it  is  that  I  was  starved  out  by  that 
pumpkin-eating  baby.  My  brothers  and  sisters 
and  myself  were  just  as  large  and  as  healthy  as 
any  other  children  until  that  baby  was  found  on 
the  gate-post,  and  from  that  day  we  began  to 
dwindle  and  shrink  away. 

"  Well,  we  starved  and  starved  until  at  last  my 
mother  could  very  plainly  see  that  something  was 
the  matter.  So  she  set  a  trap  for  the  baby  and 
baited  it  with  pumpkins.  She  had  n't  got  out  of 
hearing  before  the  baby  put  his  head  in  the  pot 
and  got  caught  in  the  trap.  It  stayed  there  all 


TWO  QUEER   STORIES.  59 

day,  and  when  mother  came  home  at  night  she 
found  it  there.  She  was  very  much  surprised, 
but  she  saw  she  must  get  rid  of  the  baby.  She 
said  that  any  creature  that  could  manage  to  eat 
like  that  was  able  to  take  care  of  itself,  and  so 
she  carried  it  off  down  the  road  and  left  it 
there. 

"  Now  this  Pumpkin-Eater  was  a  witch  baby, 
and  as  soon  as  it  thought  my  mother  was  out  of 
sight  and  hearing  it  changed  itself  into  a  tall, 
heavy  man." 

"  'T  wuz  feedin'  de  big  man  all  de  time,"  ex 
claimed  Drusilla. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Thimblefinger.  "  My 
mother  was  watching  it,  and  she  followed  to  see 
where  it  would  go.  It  went  down  to  the  bank  of 
the  river.  There  it  found  the  old  man  who  had 
given  my  mother  the  string  of  beads,  and  asked 
him  for  something  to  eat. 

" (  Comb  my  hair  for  me,'  said  the  old  man. 

"  But  it  refused,  and  then  the  old  man  told  it 
to  go  to  the  pumpkin-tree  and  ask  for  twenty 
pumpkins.  The  greedy  thing  was  glad  to  do  this. 
It  went  to  the  tree  and  called  for  twenty  pump 
kins,  and  down  they  fell  on  its  head." 


60  LITTLE   MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  What  then  ? "  asked  Buster  John,  as  Mr. 
Thimblefinger  paused.  "  Was  it  hurt  ?  " 

"  Smashed  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Thimblefinger. 
"  Knocked  flatter  than  a  pancake  !  Broke  into 
jiblets ! " 

"  It  was  a  great  waste  of  pumpkins,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Meadows. 


V. 


THE  TALKING-SADDLE. 

JUST  then  Mrs.  Meadows  smoothed  out  her 
apron  and  rose  from  her  chair. 

"  I  smell  dinner,"  she  said,  "  and  it  smells  like 
it  is  on  the  table.  Let 's  go  in  and  get  rid  of  it." 

She  led  the  way,  and  the  children  followed. 
The  dinner  was  nothing  extra,  —  just  a  plain, 
every-day,  country  dinner,  with  plenty  of  pot- 
liquor  and  dumplings  ;  but  the  children  were  hun 
gry,  and  they  made  short  work  of  all  that  was 
placed  before  them.  Drusilla  waited  on  the  table, 
as  she  did  at  home,  but  she  did  n't  go  close  to  Mr. 
Rabbit.  She  held  out  the  dishes  at  arm's  length 
when  she  offered  him  anything,  and  once  she  came 
very  near  dropping  a  plate  when  he  suddenly 
flapped  his  big  ear  on  his  nose  to  drive  off  a  fly. 

Mrs.  Meadows  was  very  kind  to  the  children, 
but  when  once  the  edge  was  taken  off  their  ap 
petite  they  began  to  get  uneasy  again.  There 
were  a  thousand  questions  they  might  have  asked, 


62  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

but  they  had  been  told  never  to  ask  questions  in 
company.  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  who  had  a  keen 
eye  for  such  things,  noticed  that  they  were  begin 
ning  to  get  glum  and  dissatisfied,  and  so  he  said 
with  a  laugh  :  — 

"  I  've  often  heard  in  my  travels  of  children 
who  talked  too  much,  but  these  don't  talk  at  all." 

"  Oh,  they  '11  soon  get  over  that, "  Mrs. 
Meadows  remarked.  "  Everything  is  so  strange 
here,  they  don't  know  what  to  make  of  it.  When 
I  was  a  little  bit  of  a  thing  my  ma  used  to  take 
me  to  quiltings,  and  I  know  it  took  me  the  long 
est  kind  of  a  time  to  get  used  to  the  strangers  and 
all." 

"  This  is  n't  a  quilting,"  said  Sweetest  Susan, 
with  a  sigh ;  "  I  wish  it  was." 

"  I  don't !  "  exclaimed  Buster  John  plumply. 

"  Once  when  I  was  listening  through  a  key 
hole,"  said  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  placing  his  tiny 
knife  and  fork  crosswise  on  his  plate,  "  I  heard 
a  story  about  a  Talking-Saddle." 

"Tell  it!  tell  it!"  cried  Buster  John  and 
Sweetest  Susan. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  no  pie  to-day  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Rabbit. 


DRUSILLA  WAITING  ON  MR.  RABBIT 


THE  TALKING-SADDLE.  63 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows,  "  we  '11  have 
the  pie  and  the  story,  too." 

Mr.  Thimblefinger  smacked  his  lips  and  winked 
his  eye  in  such  comical  fashion  that  the  children 
laughed  heartily,  but  they  did  n't  forget  the  story. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  can  remember  the  best  of 
it,"  said  Mr.  Thimblefinger.  "  The  wind  was 
blowing  and  the  keyhole  was  trying  to  learn  how 
to  whistle,  and  I  may  have  missed  some  of  the 
story.  But  it  was  such  a  queer  one,  and  I  was 
listening  so  closely,  that  I  came  very  near  falling 
off  the  door-knob  when  some  one  started  to  come 
out.  I  think  we  'd  better  eat  our  pie  first.  I 
might  get  one  of  those  huckleberries  in  my  throat 
while  talking,  and  there  's  no  doctor  close  at  hand 
to  keep  me  from  choking  to  death." 

So  they  ate  their  huckleberry-pie,  and  then  Mr. 
Thimblefinger  told  the  story. 

"  Once  upon  a  time  a  farmer  had  five  sons.  He 
was  not  rich  and  he  was  not  poor.  He  had  some 
land,  and  he  had  a  little  money.  He  divided 
his  land  equally  among  his  four  oldest  sons,  giv 
ing  each  just  as  much  as  he  could  till.  To  each, 
he  also  gave  a  piece  of  money.  Then  he  called 
his  youngest  son,  and  said  :  — 


64  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  i  You  have  sharp  eyes  and  a  keen  wit.  You 
want  no  land.  All  you  need  is  a  saddle.  That  I 
will  give  you.' 

"  '  A  saddle !  What  wiU  I  do  with  a  saddle  ? ' 
asked  the  youngest  son,  whose  name  was  Tip- 
Top. 

" '  Make  your  fortune  with  it.' 

"'If  I  had  ahorse—' 

" '  A  head  is  better  than  a  horse/  the  father 
replied. 

"  Not  long  after,  the  old  man  died.  The  land 
was  divided  up  among  the  four  older  sons,  and 
Tip-Top  was  left  with  the  saddle.  He  slung  it  on 
his  back  and  set  out  to  make  his  fortune.  It  was 
not  long  before  he  came  to  a  large  town.  He 
rested  for  a  while  and  then  he  went  into  the  town. 
He  remembered  that  his  father  had  said  a  head 
was  better  than  a  horse,  so,  instead  of  carrying 
the  saddle  on  his  back,  he  put  it  on  his  head.  At 
first  the  people  thought  he  was  carrying  the  sad 
dle  because  he  had  sold  his  horse  for  a  good  price, 
or  because  the  animal  had  died.  But  he  went 
through  street  after  street  still  carrying  the  saddle 
on  his  head,  never  pausing  to  look  around  or  to 
speak  to  anybody,  and  at  last  the  people  began 


THE  TALKING-SADDLE.  .       69 

"  *  I  have  no  horse,  your  honor.' 

"  '  Why  do  you  carry  your  saddle  ? ' 

" '  Because  no  one  will  carry  it  for  me,  your 
honor.' 

" '  Why  do  you  not  sell  it  and  be  rid  of  it, 
ninny  ? ' 

" ( Few  are  rich  enough  to  buy  it,  your  honor.' 

"  '  How  much  money  is  it  worth  ?  ' 

"  *  Two  thousand  pieces  of  gold,  your  honor.' 

"  '  Are  you  crazy  ? '  cried  the  Mayor.  '  Why  is 
it  so  valuable  ?  ' 

"  e  It  is  a  Talking-Saddle,  your  honor.' 

"  i  What  does  it  say  ? ' 

"  *  Everything,  your  honor.  It  warns,  it  pre 
dicts,  and  it  gives  advice.' 

" '  Let  it  talk  for  me,'  said  the  Mayor,  full  of 
curiosity. 

"  '  Your  honor  would  fail  to  understand  its 
language,'  replied  Tip-Top. 

"  '  Let  it  talk  and  do  you  tell  me  what  it  says.' 

"  Tip-Top  placed  his  saddle  on  the  carpet  and 
pressed  his  foot  against  it  until  the  leather  made 
a  creaking  noise. 

"  '  I  am  waiting,'  said  the  Mayor.  '  What  does 
the  saddle  say  ?  ' 


70  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

" '  It  says,  your  honor,  that  you  must  call  the 
housemaid.' 

"  The  Mayor,  to  humor  the  joke,  did  so.  The 
housemaid  came,  grumbling.  She  looked  at  the 
saddle,  at  Tip-Top,  and  then  at  the  Mayor. 

"  '  Now  what  does  the  saddle  say  ? '  asked  the 
Mayor. 

"  '  It  says,  your  honor,  that  this  woman  has  a 
brother,  who  has  just  returned  from  a  journey  in 
strange  lands.  The  saddle  says,  your  honor,  that 
this  woman's  brother  has  a  companion  who  has 
long  hair  and  a  strong  arm.' 

"  <  Is  that  all  ? '  asked  the  Mayor. 

" (  No,  your  honor,  it  is  not  half.' 

"  '  It  is  very  strange,'  said  the  housemaid. 

"  *  The  saddle  says,  your  honor,  that  if  you 
will  sit  in  the  closet  by  the  chimney,  in  the  first 
room  to  the  right,  where  there  is  an  iron  box  that 
is  very  heavy,  you  will  receive  a  visit  to-night 
from  this  woman's  brother  and  his  companion.' 

"  The  Mayor  was  very  much  astonished,  but 
before  he  could  open  his  lips  the  woman  fell  on 
her  knees  and  confessed  all.  The  Mayor  called 
an  officer  and  sent  her  away.  Then  he  turned  to 
Tip-Top,  and  asked  :  — 


THE  TALKING-SADDLE.  71 

« '  Is  that  aU  ? ' 

" l  By  no  means,  your  honor.  The  saddle  says 
send  for  the  coachman.' 

"  The  Mayor  did  so,  and  the  coachman  came, 
bowing  and  smiling. 

" ( How  much  is  the  saddle  worth  ? '  the  Mayor 
asked  him. 

"  i  Master,  it  is  worthless,'  replied  the  coach 
man,  with  a  sneer. 

" '  Let  us  see,'  said  the  Mayor.  Then,  turning 
to  Tip-Top  :  <  What  does  the  saddle  say  ?  ' 

" '  It  says,  your  honor,  that  this  coachman 
here  has  a  nephew,  who  has  just  returned  from 
a  long  journey.  It  says  that  the  nephew  has 
a  companion  who  has  short  hair  and  a  heavy 
hand.' 

"<  What  more?' 

"  {  The  saddle  says,  your  honor,  that  if  you  will 
sleep  in  the  manger  where  your  two  finest  horses 
feed,  you  will  receive  a  visit  from  the  coachman's 
nephew  and  his  traveling  companion.' 

"  The  coachman  implored  his  master's  mercy, 
and  told  all.  Of  course,  the  Mayor  was  very 
much  astonished.  He  turned  his  unfaithful  ser 
vants  over  to  an  officer,  and  that  night  had  a 


72  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

watch  set  around  his  house  and  stable,  and  caught 
the  thieves  and  their  companions." 

"  But  the  saddle  did  n't  talk,"  said  Sweetest 
Susan.  "  So  the  man  did  n't  tell  what  was  true." 
She  made  this  remark  with  so  much  dignity  that 
Mrs.  Meadows  laughed. 

But  Buster  John  was  quite  impatient. 

"  This  is  n't  a  girl's  story,"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Meadows.  "  It  is  for 
girls  as  well  as  boys.  Sometimes  people  tell  stories 
just  to  pass  the  time  away,  and  if  the  stories  have 
little  fibs  in  'em,  that  don't  do  anybody  any  harm, 
they  just  keep  them  in  there.  If  they  did  n't,  the 
story  wouldn't  be  true." 

"  Is  that  the  end  of  the  story  of  the  Talking- 
Saddle?"  asked  Buster  John. 

"  No  !  Oh,  no  !  "  Mr.  Thimblefinger  answered. 
"I  was  just  going  to  tell  you  the  rest." 

But  before  he  could  go  on  with  it,  the  noise  of 
laughter  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  then  there 
came  running  in  a  queer-looking  girl  and  a  very 
queer-looking  boy. 


VI. 

THE    TALKING-SADDLE    AND    THE    THIEF. 

THE  queer-looking  girl  was  running  from  the 
very  queer-looking  boy,  and  both  were  laughing 
loudly.  When  they  saw  the  children  sitting  at 
the  table  they  both  stopped  suddenly.  The 
queer-looking  girl  turned  and  made  a  wry  face 
at  the  very  queer-looking  boy.  At  this  both 
burst  out  laughing,  and  suddenly  stopped  again. 

"  Be  ashamed  of  yourselves !  "  exclaimed  old 
Mr.  Rabbit,  rapping  on  the  floor  with  his  cane. 
"  Be  ashamed  !  Where  are  your  manners  ?  Go 
and  speak  to  our  friends  and  make  your  best  bow, 
too,  —  don't  forget  that !  "  Mr.  Rabbit  appeared 
to  be  very  indignant. 

Mrs.  Meadows  was  in  a  better  humor.  "  This," 
she  said,  as  the  queer-looking  girl  came  forward, 
"  is  Chickamy  Crany  Crow,  and  this,  as  the  very 
queer-looking  boy  came  timidly  up,  is  Tickle-My- 
Toes." 

They  bowed,  and  then  went  off  a  little  way, 


74  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

looking  very  solemn  and  comical.  They  didn't 
dare  glance  at  each  other  for  fear  they  would 
begin  laughing  again.  The  reason  they  looked 
so  queer  was  because,  although  they  acted  like 
children,  they  were  old  in  appearance,  —  as  old  as 
a  person  past  middle  age. 

"  They  are  country-raised,  poor  things  !  You  '11 
have  to  excuse  them.  They  don't  know  any  bet 
ter."  Mr.  Thimblefinger  sighed  as  he  said  this, 
and  looked  thoughtful. 

"What  about  the  Talking-Saddle?"  Buster 
John  inquired.  "  You  said  the  story  was  n't  fin 
ished." 

"To  be  sure!  To  be  sure!"  Mr.  Thimble- 
finger  cried.  "  My  mind  is  like  a  wagon  without 
a  tongue.  It  goes  every  way  but  the  right  way. 
Where  was  I?  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  now." 

"  Well,  the  Mayor  was  very  thankful  to  Tip- 
Top  for  saving  his  treasure  and  his  horses,  but 
he  wasn't  satisfied  about  the  saddle.  He  was 
worried.  Now,  you  know  when  a  child  is  wor 
ried  it  cries,  but  when  a  grown  man  is  worried  he 
sits  down  and  looks  away  off,  and  puts  his  elbow 
in  his  hand  and  his  finger  to  his  nose  —  so." 

"  Oh,  I  've  seen  papa  do  that,"  laughed  Sweet 
est  Susan. 


TALKING-SADDLE  AND  THIEF.  75 

"Yes,  that's  the  way  the  Mayor  did,"  Mr. 
Thimblefinger  continued.  "  There  was  a  great 
thief  in  that  country  who  had  never  been  caught. 
He  did  n't  care  for  judges  and  juries  and  court 
houses.  He  always  sent  the  Mayor  word  when 
he  was  coming  to  the  city  and  when  he  was  go 
ing  away. 

"  Now,  the  Mayor  had  received  a  letter  from 
this  man  just  the  day  before  Tip-Top  came. 
The  thief  said  he  was  coming  after  a  fine  race 
horse  that  was  owned  by  the  Mayor's  brother. 
So  the  Mayor  sat  and  thought,  and  finally  he 
asked  Tip-Top  if  his  Talking-Saddle  could  catch 
a  famous  thief. 

"'It  has  just  caught  four  common  rogues, 
your  honor,'  replied  Tip-Top,  '  and  I  think  it  can 
catch  one  uncommon  thief.' 

"  Then  the  Mayor  told  Tip-Top  that  the  most 
famous  thief  in  all  that  country  intended  to  steal 
his  brother's  race-horse.  Tip-Top  said  he  must 
see  the  horse,  and  together  they  went  to  the  sta 
ble  where  it  was  kept.  The  horse  was  already 
guarded.  Two  servants  sat  in  the  stall,  two  sat 
outside,  and  two  remained  near  the  door.  The 
Mayor's  brother  was  also  there. 


76  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

" e  What  is  this  ? '  the  brother  asked. 

" '  This  fellow  wants  to  sell  his  saddle/  re 
plied  the  Mayor. 

" '  Then  arrest  him/  cried  the  brother,  l  for  he 
is  the  thief.' 

" '  Nonsense/  replied  the  Mayor.  '  He  is  a 
very  honest  man  and  I  will  vouch  for  him.' 

Then  the  Mayor  called  his  brother  aside  and 
told  him  why  the  man  with  the  saddle  had  come 
to  see  the  horse. 

"  Tip-Top  talked  with  the  men  who  had  been 
set  to  guard  the  horse,  and  he  soon  found  that 
one  of  them  was  an  accomplice  of  the  thief.  This 
man  made  a  swift  sign  to  Tip-Top,  and  placed  his 
finger  on  his  mouth.  Tip-Top  replied  by  closing 
his  eyes  with  his  fingers,  as  if  to  show  that  he 
saw  nothing.  When  he  had  an  opportunity  he 
said  to  this  man  :  — 

" '  Tell  your  master  I  will  be  willing  to  sell  the 
saddle  to-night.  I  will  sleep  with  it  under  my 
head  on  the  next  corner.  It  is  worth  one  thou 
sand  pieces  of  gold/ 

"  Then  he  returned  to  the  Mayor,  and  they 
went  away.  Tip-Top  laughed  as  they  walked 
along.  (  This  thief/  he  remarked,  '  is  a  f ooL 


TALKING-SADDLE  AND   THIEF.  77 

It  is  so  easy  to  steal  a  horse  that  he  will  not  buy 
a  saddle.  He  will  try  to  steal  mine.  Then  we 
shall  catch  him.  He  will  get  the  horse  —  ' 

" '  What ! '  cried  the  Mayor ;  <  get  the  horse  ? ' 

" '  Certainly ;  nothing  is  easier,'  replied  Tip- 
Top.  '  He  will  get  the  horse,  and  then  he  will 
want  a  saddle.  He  will  be  passing  the  wall  here. 
He  will  see  me  sleeping  with  my  head  on  my 
friend  and  then  he  will  attempt  to  steal  it,  but 
the  surcingle  will  be  buckled  around  my  body, 
and  I  will  awake  and  cry  blue  murder.  Then 
you  and  your  brother  can  come  forward  from  the 
vacant  house  yonder  and  seize  him.' 

" '  Where  did  you  learn  all  this  ? '  asked  the 
Mayor.  He  began  to  suspect  that  his  brother 
was  right  when  he  said  that  Tip-Top  was  the 
thief. 

"  '  My  saddle  told  me,'  Tip-Top  answered. 

"  '  Well,'  said  the  Mayor,  *  your  plan  is  as  good 
as  any,  but  how  will  the  thief  get  the  horse  that 
is  so  well  guarded  ?  ' 

" '  Ah  ! '  Tip-Top  exclaimed,  '  if  I  were  to  tell 
you,  we  should  never  catch  the  thief.' 

"  So  it  was  all  arranged.  Tip-Top  was  to  sleep 
on  his  Talking-Saddle,  near  the  wall  and  the 


78  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

Mayor  and  his  brother  were  to  watch  from  the 
windows  of  the  vacant  house  opposite. 

"  When  night  came,  the  watchers  who  had  been 
set  to  guard  the  horse  were  very  anxious.  They 
were  ready  to  arrest  any  one  who  might  chance 
to  enter.  Whenever  they  heard  footsteps  ap 
proaching  they  seized  their  clubs  and  stood  on  the 
defensive.  Sometimes  a  passer-by  would  pause, 
look  in,  and  ask  what  the  trouble  was.  Then  the 
watchers  would  reply  that  they  were  waiting  for 
the  great  thief  who  was  coming  to  steal  the  fine 
horse.  Thus  the  hours  passed,  but  no  thief  came. 
Then  the  watchers  began  to  get  tired. 

"  '  We  are  crazy,'  said  one.  '  How  can  a  thief 
steal  this  horse,  even  if  he  were  to  come  in  here  ? 
We  are  four  to  one.  Two  of  us  should  sleep 
a  while,  and  thus  we  can  take  turns  in  watching.' 
This  was  agreed  to,  and  two  of  the  guards 
stretched  themselves  on  the  straw  and  prepared 
to  sleep.  But  just  then  they  heard  some  one  sing 
ing  far  down  the  street.  It  was  a  jolly  song,  and 
the  sound  of  it  came  louder  and  louder.  As  the 
singer  was  going  by,  the  light  in  the  stable  caught 
his  eye,  and  he  paused  and  looked  in,  but  still 
kept  up  his  singing. 


TALKING-SADDLE  AND   THIEF.  79 

"  '  Friends/  he  said  when  his  song  was  done, 
'  what  is  the  trouble  ?  ' 

"  '  We  are  watching  a  horse.' 

" '  Is  he  sick?  Perhaps  I  can  aid  you.  I  have 
doctored  many  a  horse  in  my  day.' 

"  ( He  is  not  sick/  replied  the  watchers.  '  He 
is  well  and  taking  his  ease.  We  are  watching  to 
prevent  a  thief  from  stealing  him.' 

"  Then  they  told  him  the  threat  the  thief  had 
made. 

" '  Come,  that  is  too  good/  cried  the  newcomer. 
'  This  thief  will  be  worth  looking  at  when  four 
such  stout  lads  as  you  get  through  with  him. 
When  does  he  show  himself  ? ' 

" e  That  is  what  we  are  to  find  out/  replied  the 
watchers. 

"  '  Very  well/  the  newcomer  said  ;  '  I  '11  stay, 
by  your  permission,  and  see  you  double  him  up.' 

"  The  watchers  gave  their  consent  gladly,  for 
the  newcomer  had  a  lively  manner  and  a  rattling 
tongue.  He  sang  songs  and  told  stories  for  an 
hour  or  more,  and  then  pulled  a  bottle  from  un 
der  his  coat. 

"  '  A  little  wine/  he  said,  '  will  clear  the  fog 
from  our  throats.'  He  passed  the  bottle  around, 


80  LITTLE  MR.   THIMBLEFINGER. 

and  all  drank  except  the  guard  who  was  watch 
ing  in  the  stall. 

"  Now  the  man  who  had  come  singing  up  the 
street  was  the  thief  himself,  and  the  guard  in  the 
stall  was  his  companion.  The  wine  was  drugged, 
and  in  a  very  few  minutes  three  of  the  watchers 
were  fast  asleep.  Then  the  thief  and  his  compan 
ion  took  the  horse  from  the  stall. 

" 1 1  shall  have  to  remain  here  and  pretend  to 
be  asleep,'  said  the  companion.  '  You  will  find  a 
saddle  around  the  corner.'  He  then  told  the  thief 
about  the  man  with  the  saddle. 

"  '  You  are  a  fool,  my  friend,'  said  the  thief. 
'  It  is  a  trick  —  a  trap.' 

"  But  when  he  had  carried  off  the  horse  and 
hid  it  at  the  house  of  an  acquaintance,  the 
thought  of  the  man  with  the  saddle  worried  him 
so  that  he  went  back  to  satisfy  himself.  Tip-Top 
and  his  saddle  were  there,  and  Tip-Top  had  slept 
so  soundly  that  his  head  had  rolled  from  his  pil 
low.  The  thief  thought  it  would  be  a  good 
stroke  of  business  to  take  the  saddle  along,  but 
when  he  tried  to  lift  it,  Tip-Top  awoke  and  seized 
him,  and  cried  '  Murder  !  '  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

"  The   Mayor   and   his  brother   rushed   from 


TALKING-SADDLE  AND   THIEF.  81 

their  place  of  concealment,  and  soon  the  thief 
was  bound. 

"  ( Where  is  the  horse  ?  '  cried  the  Mayor. 

"  '  What  horse  ? '  exclaimed  the  thief.  '  Do 
you  think  I  carry  horses  in  my  pocket  ?  ' 

"  '  What  were  you  doing  here,  then  ?  ' 

"  '  This  fellow's  head  had  slipped  from  its  pil 
low,  and  when  I  tried  to  put  it  back  he  seized 
me  and  yelled  that  I  was  murdering  him !  I 
saw  no  horse  under  the  saddle.' 

"  <  Wait  here  a  little/  said  Tip-Top.  <  Hold  this 
thief  till  I  return.' 

"  He  went  to  the  stable,  woke  the  thief's  ac 
complice,  who  by  this  time  was  really  asleep, 
and  told  him  his  companion  had  been  captured. 
'  If  I  can  find  the  horse  and  hide  it  our  friend 
will  be  safe,  for  nothing  can  be  proved  on  him.' 

"  The  man  was  so  frightened  that  he  told 
Tip-Top  where  he  had  arranged  to  meet  the 
thief  the  next  day.  Then  Tip-Top  returned 
to  the  Mayor  and  his  brother,  who  still  held  the 
thief,  and  took  them  to  the  house  where  the 
horse  had  been  stabled. 

"  When  the  horse  had  been  found  and  re 
stored  to  its  owner  the  Mayor  said  to  Tip-Top 


82  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

that  he  would  not  only  reward  him  handsomely 
but  grant  any  request  he  might  make. 

"  '  Then,  your  honor/  replied  Tip-Top,  '  give 
this  man  his  liberty.' 

"  '  Why  ?  '  asked  the  Mayor,  much  astonished. 

"  l  Because,  your  honor,  he  is  my  brother.' 

"  The  ,  thief  was  as  much  astonished  as  the 
Mayor  at  this  turn  in  his  affairs,  but  he  had  no 
difficulty  in  recognizing  Tip-Top  as  his  younger 
brother. 

" '  He  certainly  is  a  man  of  talent,'  said  the 
Mayor,  '  and  it  is  a  pity  that  he  should  be  exe 
cuted.' 

"  Then  the  thief  fell  on  his  knees  and  begged 
the  Mayor  to  pardon  him,  promising  him  to  live 
and  die  an  honest  man.  And  he  kept  his  prom 
ise.  He  engaged  in  business,  and,  aided  by 
Tip-Top's  advice  and  influence,  made  a  large  for 
tune." 

"  What  became  of  the  Talking-Saddle  ?  "  asked 
Buster  John. 

"Well,"  replied  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  "  Tip-Top 
hung  the  saddle  in  his  front  porch,  as  you  have 
seen  farmers  do.  He  thought  a  great  deal  of 
it." 


THE  MAYOR  PARDONING  THE  THIEF 


TALKING-SADDLE  AND   THIEF.  83 

"  I  've  read  something  about  the  great  thief," 
remarked  Buster  John.  "  But  the  story  did  n't 
end  that  way.  The  thief  escaped  every  time." 

"  Oh,  well,  you  know  how  some  people  are," 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Meadows.  "  They  want  every 
thing  to  happen  just  so ;  even  a  thief  must  be  a 
big  man  if  he  's  in  a  story  ;  but  I  don't  believe 
anybody  ever  stole  anything  yet  without  getting 
into  trouble  about  it." 

"Who  is  that  crying?"  Mr.  Rabbit  suddenly 
exclaimed. 

"  I  hear  no  crying,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows. 

"  I  certainly  thought  I  heard  crying, "  per 
sisted  Mr.  Rabbit. 

"  It  is  Chickamy  Crany  Crow  and  Tickle-My- 
Toes  singing.  Listen  !  " 

Sure  enough  the  queer-looking  boy  and  the 
queer-looking  girl  were  singing  a  song.  One 
sang  one  line  and  the  other  the  next  line,  and 
this  made  the  song  somewhat  comical.  The 
words  were  something  like  these  :  — 

CHICKAMY  CRANY  CROW. 

Oh  sing  it  slow, 
This  song  of  woe, 
Of  the  girl  who  went  to  wash  her  toe  I 


84  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

Her  name  was  Chick  — 
(Oh  run  here  quick)  — 
The  word  's  so  thick)  — 
Chickamy  —  Chickamy  Crany  Crow  ! 

Chickamy  what  ?  and  Chickamy  which  ? 
She  went  to  the  well  and  fell  in  the  ditch  ; 
What  o'clock,  old  Witch  ? 

The  clock  struck  one 
And  bowed  to  the  sun  ; 
But  the  sun  was  fast  asleep  you  know  ; 
And  the  moon  was  quick, 
With  her  oldtime  trick  — 
To  hide  from  Chick  — 
Chickamy —  Chickamy  Crany  Crow  ! 

Chickamy  what  ?  and  Chickamy  which  ? 
She  went  to  the  well  and  fell  in  the  ditch  ; 
What  o'clock,  old  Witch  ? 

Oh,  sad  to  tell  ! 

She  went  to  the  well  — 
The  time  was  as  close  to  eve  as  to  dawn  — 

To  Chickamy  Chick, 

So  supple  and  slick, 

The  clock  said  "  Tick  !  " 
But  when  she  came  back  her  chicken  was  gone  I 

Oh,  whatamy,  whichamy,  chickamy,  oh  1 
Moonery,  oonery,  tickamy  Toe  ! 
Wellery,  tellery,  gittery  go  ! 
Witchery,  itchery,  knitchery  know." 


CHICKAMY  CRAXV  CROW  AND  TICKLE-MY-TOES 


TALKING-SADDLE  AND  THIEF.  85 

"  What  kinder  gwines  on  is  dat  ?  "  exclaimed 
Drusilla,  whose  mind  had  never  been  quite  easy 
since  she  walked  through  the  dry  water  in  the 
spring  without  getting  drowned.  "  We  all  better 
be  makin'  our  way  to'rds  home.  Time  we  git 
dar  —  ef  we  ever  is  ter  git  dar  —  it  '11  be  dark 
good.  Den  what  yo'  ma  gwine  to  say  ?  She 
gwine  ter  talk  wid  de  flat  er  her  han'  —  dat  what 
she  gwine  ter  talk  wid.  Come  on  !  " 

"  Can't  you  be  quiet  ? "  cried  Buster  John. 
"  It 's  nothing  but  a  song." 

"  Oh,  you  kin  stay,  an'  I  '11  stay  wid  you,"  said 
Drusilla  ;  "  but  when  Mistiss  git  you  in  de  wash 
room,  don't  you  come  sayin'  dat  I  would  n't  fetch 
you  home." 

"I  want  to  see  everything,"  said  Buster  John. 

"  I  done  seed  much  ez  I  want  ter  see,"  replied 
Drusilla,  "  an'  now  I  want  ter  live  ter  tell  it." 

Before  Buster  John  could  say  anything  more, 
everything  suddenly  grew  a  little  darker,  and  in 
the  middle  of  the  sky  —  or  what  ought  to  have 
been  the  sky,  but  which  was  the  enlarged  bottom 
of  the  spring  —  there  was  a  huge  shadow.  The 
children  looked  at  it  in  silence. 


VII. 

THE    LADDER    OF    LIONS. 

THE  shadow  that  seemed  to  fall  over  everything 
caused  Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan  and  Dru- 
silla  to  run  to  the  door.  It  was  not  a  very  dark 
shadow,  but  it  was  dark  enough  to  attract  their 
attention  and  excite  their  alarm.  They  were  not 
yet  used  to  their  surroundings,  for,  although  a 
great  many  things  they  saw  and  heard  were  fa 
miliar  to  them,  they  could  not  forget  that  they 
had  come  through  the  water  in  the  spring.  They 
could  not  forget  that  Mr.  Thimblefmger  was  the 
smallest  grown  person  they  had  ever  seen,  —  even 
if  he  were  a  grown  person,  —  nor  could  they  for 
get  that  they  had  never  seen  a  rabbit  so  wonder 
fully  large  as  Mr.  Rabbit.  Drusilla  expressed  the 
feelings  of  all  when  she  remarked  that  she  felt 
"skittish."  They  were  ready  to  take  alarm  at  any 
thing  that  might  happen.  Therefore  they  ran  to 
the  door  to  see  what  the  shadow  meant.  Finally 
they  looked  up  at  the  sky,  or  what  seemed  to  be 


THE  LADDER   OF  LIONS.  87 

the  sky,  and  there  they  saw,  covering  a  large  part 
of  it,  the  vague  outline  of  a  huge  jug.  The 
shadow  wobbled  about  and  wavered,  and  ripples 
of  light  and  shadow  played  about  it  and  ran 
down  to  the  horizon  on  all  sides. 

An  astronomer,  seeing  these  fantastic  wobblings 
and  waverings  of  light  and  shadow  in  our  firma 
ment,  would  straightway  send  a  letter  or  a  cable 
dispatch  to  the  newspapers,  declaring  that  an  un 
heard-of  convulsion  was  shaking  the  depths  of 
celestial  space.  And,  indeed,  it  was  all  very  puz 
zling,  even  to  the  children,  but  Drusilla,  who  had 
less  imagination  than  any  of  the  rest,  accounted 
for  it  all  by  one  bold  stroke  of  common  sense. 

"  Shuh  !  'T  ain't  nothin'  't  all !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  Dey  done  got  froo  wid  dinner  at  home,  an'  ol' 
Aunt  'Cindy  done  put  de  buttermilk-jug  back  in 
de  spring." 

Sweetest  Susan  caught  her  breath  with  a  gasp, 
and  laughed  hysterically.  She  had  been  very 
much  alarmed. 

"  I  expect  that 's  what  it  is,"  said  Buster  John, 
but  there  was  some  doubt  in  his  tone.  He  turned 
to  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  who  had  followed  them. 
"  What  time  is  it,  please  ?  " 


LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

Mr.  Thimblefinger  drew  his  watch  from  his 
pocket  with  as  much  dignity  as  he  could  assume, 
and  held  his  head  gravely  on  one  side.  "  It  is 
now  —  let  me  see  —  ahem  !  —  it  is  now  precisely 
thirteen  minutes  and  eleven  seconds  after  one 
o'clock." 

"  Is  that  the  jug  in  the  spring  ?  "  asked  Sweet 
est  Susan,  pointing  to  the  huge  black  shadow  that 
was  now  wobbling  and  wavering  more  slowly. 

Mr.  Thimblefinger  shaded  his  eyes  with  his 
hand  and  examined  the  shadow  critically.  "  Yes, 
that  is  the  jug  —  the  light  hurts  my  eyes  —  yes, 
certainly,  that  is  the  jug." 

Presently  a  volume  of  white  vapor  shot  out  from 
the  shadow.  It  was  larger  than  the  largest  comet, 
and  almost  as  brilliant. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  Sweetest  Susan. 

Mr.  Thimblefinger  felt  almost  as  thoughtful  as 
a  sure-enough  man  of  science. 

" That,"  said  he,  "is  an  emanation  —  an  exha 
lation,  you  might  say  —  that  we  frequently  witness 
in  our  atmosphere." 

"  A  which  ?  "  asked  Buster  John. 

"Well,"  replied  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  clearing 
his  throat,  "  it 's  —  er  —  an  emanation." 


THE  LADDER   OF  LIONS.  89 

"  Huh  !  "  cried  Drusilla,  "  't  ain't  no  kind  er 
nation.  It 's  des  de  milk  leakin'  out'n  dat  jug. 
I  done  toP  Aunt  'Cindy  'bout  dat  leakin'  jug." 

Mr.  Rabbit  and  Mrs.  Meadows  had  come  out 
of  the  house  in  time  to  hear  this,  and  they  laughed 
heartily.  In  fact,  they  all  laughed  except  Mr. 
Thimblefinger  and  Drusilla. 

"  It  happens  every  day,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows. 
"  We  never  notice  it.  I  suppose  if  it  happened 
up  there  where  you  children  live,  everybody  would 
make  a  great  to-do  ?  I  'm  glad  I  don't  live  there 
where  there  's  so  much  fussing  and  guessing  going 
on.  I  know  how  it  is.  Something  happens  that 
does  n't  happen  every  day,  and  then  somebody  '11 
guess  one  way  and  somebody  another  way,  and 
the  first  thing  you  know  there  's  a  great  rumpus 
over  nothing.  I  'm  truly  glad  I  came  away  from 
there  in  time  to  get  out  of  the  worst  of  it.  You 
children  had  better  take  a  notion  and  stay  here 
with  us." 

"  Oh,  no,"  cried  Sweetest  Susan.  "  Mamma 
and  papa  would  want  to  see  us." 

"That's  so,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows.  "Well,  I 
just  came  out  here  to  tell  you  not  to  get  too  near 
the  Green  Moss  Swamp  beyond  the  hill  yonder. 


90  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

There 's  an  old  Spring  Lizard  over  there  that 
might  want  to  shake  hands  with  you  with  his  tail. 
Besides  it 's  not  healthy  around  there  j  it  is  too 
damp." 

"  Oh,  we  are  not  going  anywhere  until  we  start 
home,"  Sweetest  Susan  remarked. 

"  How  large  is  the  Spring  Lizard?"  inquired 
Buster  John. 

"  He  's  a  heap  too  big  for  you  to  manage,"  re 
plied  Mrs.  Meadows.  "  I  don't  know  that  he  'd 
hurt  you,  but  he 's  slept  in  the  mud  over  there 
until  he  's  so  fat  he  can't  wallow  scarcely.  He 
might  roll  over  on  you  and  hurt  you  some." 

"  Are  there  any  lions  over  there  ? "  inquired 
Sweetest  Susan. 

"  No,  honey,  not  a  living  one,"  said  Mrs.  Mead 
ows. 

By  this  time  Mr.  Rabbit  had  come  out  on  the 
piazza,  bringing  his  walking-cane  and  his  pipe. 
He  presently  seated  himself  on  the  steps,  and 
leaned  his  head  comfortably  against  one  of  the 
posts. 

"Well,  well,  well,"  he  exclaimed.  "It  has 
been  years  and  years  since  I  've  heard  the  name  of 
Brother  Lion.  Is  he  still  living  and  doing  well  ?  " 


THE  LADDER   OF  LIONS.  91 

Mr.  Rabbit  turned  an  inquiring  eye  on  Sweetest 
Susan. 

"  She  does  n't  know  anything  about  lions/' 
said  Buster  John. 

"  Why,  I  do  !  "  cried  Sweetest  Susan.  "  I  saw 
one  once  in  a  cage." 

"  In  a  cage  ?  Brother  Lion  in  a  cage  ?  "  Mr. 
Rabbit  raised  his  hands  and  rolled  his  eyes  in 
astonishment.  "  What  is  the  world  coming  to  ? 
Well,  I  've  said  many  and  many  a  time  that 
Brother  Lion  was  not  right  up  here."  Mr.  Rab 
bit  tapped  his  forehead  significantly.  "  In  a 
cage !  Now,  that  pesters  me.  Why,  he  used  to 
go  roaring  and  romping  about  the  country,  scar 
ing  them  that  did  n't  know  him  mighty  nigh  to 
death.  And  so  Brother  Lion  is  in  a  cage  ?  But 
I  might  have  known  it.  I  wonder  how  the  rest 
of  the  family  are  getting  on  ?  Not  that  they  are 
any  kin  to  me,  for  they  are  not.  I  called  him 
Brother  Lion  just  to  be  neighborly.  Oh,  no! 
He  and  his  family  are  no  kin  to  me.  They  are 
too  heavy  in  both  head  and  feet  for  that." 

Mr.  Rabbit  closed  his  eyes  as  if  reflecting,  and 
patted  the  ground  softly  with  his  foot. 

"  Well,  well !  I  remember  just  as  well  as  if  it 


92  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

were  yesterday  the  day  I  told  Brother  Lion  that 
if  he  was  n't  careful,  Mr.  Man  would  catch  him 
and  put  him  in  a  cage  for  his  children  to  look  at. 
But  he  just  hooted  at  it  — and  now,  sure  enough, 
there  he  is !  I  mind  the  first  time  he  began  his 
pursuit  of  Mr.  Man.  That  was  the  time  he  got 
his  hand  caught  in  the  split  of  the  log." 

"I  done  hear  my  daddy  tell  dat  tale,"  re 
marked  Drusilla. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Rabbit,  "it  soon  became 
common  talk  in  the  neighborhood.  Brother  Lion 
had  come  a  long  way  to  hunt  Mr.  Man,  and  as 
soon  as  he  got  his  hand  out  of  the  split  in  the 
log  he  started  to  go  home  again.  I  went  part  of 
the  way  with  him,  and  then  it  was  that  I  told 
him  he  'd  find  himself  in  a  cage  if  he  was  n't 
careful.  I  made  a  burdock  poultice  for  his  hand 
the  best  I  could  —  " 

"  And  it 's  mighty  good  for  bruises,  I  tell  you 
now  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Meadows. 

"  And  then  Brother  Lion  went  on  home,  feel 
ing  better,  but  still  very  mad.  Crippled  as  he 
was,  he  was  a  quick  traveler,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  he  came  to  his  journey's  end. 

"  Well,  when  his  mother  saw  him  she  was  very 


MR.  RABBIT  BANDAGING  BROTHER  LION'S  PAW 


THE  LADDER    OF  LIONS.  93 

sorry.  But  when  he  told  her  what  the  matter 
was  she  was  vexed.  l  Aha  ! '  said  she,  l  how 
often  have  I  told  you  about  meddling  with  some 
body  else's  business !  How  often  have  I  told 
you  about  sticking  your  nose  into  things  that 
don't  concern  you  !  I  'm  not  sorry  for  you  one 
bit,  because  if  you  had  obeyed  me  you  would  n't 
be  coming  home  now  with  your  hand  mashed  all 
to  flinders.  But,  no  !  daddy-like,  you  've  got  to 
go  and  get  yourself  into  trouble  with  Mr.  Man, 
and  now  you  see  what  has  come  of  it.  I  'm  not 
feeling  at  all  well  myself,  but  now  I  've  got  to  go 
to  work  and  make  a  whole  parcel  of  poultices  and 
tie  your  hand  up  and  nurse  you  —  and  I  declare 
somebody  ought  to  be  nursing  me  this  very  min 
ute.' 

"  That  was  what  Brother  Lion's  mother  said," 
continued  Mr.  Rabbit,  "  but  Brother  Lion  did  n't 
say  anything.  He  just  lay  on  the  sheepskin 
pallet  she  made  him  and  studied  how  he  would 
be  revenged  on  Mr.  Man.  After  a  while  his 
hand  got  well,  but  still  he  said  very  little  about 
the  matter.  The  more  he  thought  about  the  way 
he  had  been  treated,  the  madder  he  got.  He 
gnashed  his  teeth  together  and  waved  his  long 


94  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

tail  about  until  it  looked  like  a  snake.  Finally 
he  sent  word  to  all  his  kin  —  his  uncles  and  his 
cousins  —  to  meet  him  somewhere  in  the  woods 
and  hold  a  convention  to  consider  how  they 
should  catch  the  great  monster,  Mr.  Man,  who 
had  caused  a  log  of  wood  to  mash  Brother  Lion's 
hand. 

"Well,  it  wasn't  long  before  the  uncles  and 
cousins  began  to  arrive.  They  came  from  far 
and  near,  and  they  seemed  to  be  very  ferocious. 
They  shook  their  manes  and  showed  their  tushes. 
They  went  off  in  the  woods  and  held  their  con 
vention,  and  Brother  Lion  laid  his  complaint  be 
fore  them.  He  told  them  what  kind  of  treatment 
he  had  received  from  Mr.  Man,  and  asked  them  if 
they  would  help  to  get  his  revenge.  He  made 
quite  a  speech,  and  when  he  sat  down,  his  uncles 
and  cousins  were  very  much  excited.  They 
roared  and  howled.  They  said  they  were  ready 
to  tear  Mr.  Man  limb  from  limb.  They  declared 
they  were  ready  to  go  where  he  was,  and  gnaw 
him  and  claw  him  on  account  of  the  scandalous 
way  he  had  treated  their  blood-kin. 

"  But  when  Brother  Lion's  mother  heard  what 
they  proposed  to  do  she  shut  her  eyes  and  shook 


THE  LADDER    OF  LIONS.  95 

her  head  from  side  to  side,  and  told  the  uncles 
and  the  cousins  that  they  had  better  go  back 
home,  all  of  them.  She  said  that  before  they 
got  through  with  Mr.  Man  they  'd  wish  they  had 
never  been  born.  But  go  they  would  and  go 
they  did. 

"  So  they  started  out  soon  one  morning,  and 
traveled  night  and  day  for  nearly  a  week.  They 
were  getting  very  tired  and  hungry,  and  some 
of  the  younger  blood-cousins  wanted  to  stop  and 
rest,  and  some  wanted  to  turn  around  and  go 
back  home.  But  one  morning  while  they  were 
going  through  the  woods,  feeling  a  little  shaky 
in  head  and  limb,  they  suddenly  came  in  sight  of 
Mr.  Man.  He  was  cutting  down  trees  and  split 
ting  them  into  timber.  He  had  his  coat  off,  and 
seemed  to  be  very  busy. 

"  But  he  was  not  so  busy  that  he  did  n't  hear 
Mr.  Lion  and  his  uncles  and  blood-cousins  sneak 
ing  through  the  woods  over  the  dry  leaves,  and 
he  was  n't  so  busy  that  he  could  n't  see  them 
moving  about  among  the  trees.  He  was  very 
much  astonished.  He  wondered  where  so  many 
of  the  Lion  family  came  from,  and  what  they 
were  doing  there,  but  he  did  n't  stop  to  ask  any 


96  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

questions.  He  dropped  his  axe  and  climbed  a 
tree. 

"  Brother  Lion  and  his  uncles  and  his  blood- 
cousins  were  very  much  pleased  when  they  saw 
Mr.  Man  climb  the  tree.  '  We  have  him  now/ 
said  Brother  Lion,  and  the  rest  licked  their  jaws 
and  smiled.  Then  they  gathered  around  the 
tree  and  sat  on  their  haunches  and  watched  Mr. 
Man.  This  didn't  do  any  good,  for  Mr.  Man 
sat  on  a  limb  and  swung  his  legs,  just  as  content 
edly  as  if  he  was  sitting  in  his  rocking-chair  at 
home. 

"Then  Brother  Lion  and  his  uncles  and  his 
blood-cousins  showed  their  teeth  and  growled. 
But  this  did  n't  do  any  good.  Mr.  Man  swung 
his  feet  and  whistled  a  dance-tune.  Then 
Brother  Lion  and  his  blood-cousins  opened  their 
mouths  wide  and  roared  as  loud  as  they  could. 
But  this  didn't  do  any  good.  Mr.  Man  leaned 
his  head  against  the  trunk  of  the  tree  and  pre 
tended  to  be  nodding. 

"  This  made  Brother  Lion  and  his  blood-kin 
very  mad.  They  ran  around  the  tree  and  tore 
the  bark  with  their  claws,  and  waved  their  tails 
back  and  forth.  But  this  didn't  do  any  good, 


THE  LADDER    OF  LIONS.  97 

Mr.  Man  just  sat  up  there  and  swung  his  feet 
and  laughed  at  them. 

"  Brother  Lion  and  his  blood-kin  soon  found 
that  if  they  intended  to  capture  Mr.  Man  they  'd 
have  to  do  something  else  besides  caper  around 
the  foot  of  the  tree.  So  they  talked  it  over,  and 
Brother  Lion  fixed  up  a  plan.  He  said  that  he 
would  stand  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  and  rear  up 
against  the  trunk,  and  one  of  his  blood-cousins 
could  climb  on  his  back  and  rear  up,  and  then 
another  cousin  or  uncle  could  climb  up,  and  so 
on  until  there  was  a  ladder  of  bloodthirsty  Lions 
high  enough  to  reach  Mr.  Man. 

"  Brother  Lion,  mind  you,  was  to  be  at  the  bot 
tom  of  the  Lion  ladder,"  remarked  Mr.  Rabbit, 
with  a  chuckle,  "  and  he  had  a  very  good  reason 
for  it.  He  had  had  dealings  with  Mr.  Man,  and 
he  wanted  to  keep  as  far  away  from  him  as  pos 
sible.  But  before  they  made  the  Lion  ladder, 
Brother  Lion  looked  up  at  Mr.  Man  and  called 
out :  — 

" l  What  are  you  doing  up  there  ? ' 

" i  You  '11  find  out  a  great  deal  too  soon  for 
your  comfort,'  replied  Mr.  Man. 

"  Brother  Lion  said, '  Come  down  from  there/ 


98  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"Mr.  Man  answered,  'I'll  come  down  much 
sooner  than  you  want  me  to.' 

"  Then  Brother  Lion,  his  uncles,  and  his  blood- 
cousins  began  to  build  their  ladder.  Brother 
Lion  was  the  bottom  round  of  this  ladder,  as  you 
may  say,"  continued  Mr.  Rabbit.  "  He  reared 
up  and  placed  his  hands  against  the  tree,  and 
one  of  his  uncles  jumped  on  his  shoulders,  and 
put  his  hands  against  the  tree.  Then  a  cousin, 
and  then  another  uncle,  and  so  on  until  the  lad 
der  reached  a  considerable  distance  up  the  tree. 
It  was  such  a  high  ladder  that  it  began  to  wob 
ble,  and  the  last  uncle  had  hard  work  to  make 
his  way  to  the  top.  He  climbed  up  very  carefully 
and  slowly,  for  he  was  not  used  to  this  sort  of 
business.  He  was  the  oldest  and  the  fiercest  of 
the  old  company,  but  his  knees  shook  under  him 
as  he  climbed  up  and  felt  the  ladder  shaking  and 
wobbling. 

"  Mr.  Man  saw  that  by  the  time  this  big  Lion 
got  to  the  top  of  the  ladder  his  teeth  and  his 
claws  would  be  too  close  for  comfort,  and  so  he 
called  out  in  an  angry  tone  :  — 

" '  Just  hold  on  !  Just  stand  right  still !  Wait ! 
I  'm  not  after  any  of  you  except  that  fellow  at 


THE  LADDER  OF  LIONS 


THE  LADDER   OF  LIONS.  99 

the  bottom  there.  I  'm  not  trying  to  catch  any 
of  you  but  him.  He  has  bothered  me  before. 
I  let  him  go  once,  but  I  '11  not  let  him  get  away 
this  time.  Just  stand  right  still  and  hold  him 
there  till  I  climb  down  the  other  side  of  the 
tree.' 

"  With  that  Mr.  Man  shook  the  limbs  and 
leaves  and  dropped  some  pieces  of  bark.  This 
was  more  than  Brother  Lion  could  stand.  He 
was  so  frightened  that  he  jumped  from  under  the 
ladder,  and  his  uncles  and  his  blood-cousins  came 
tumbling  to  the  ground,  howling,  growling,  and 
fighting. 

"  They  were  as  sorry-looking  a  sight  as  ever 
you  saw  when  they  came  to  their  senses.  Those 
that  did  n't  have  their  bones  broken  by  the  fall 
were  torn  and  mangled.  They  had  acted  so 
foolishly  that  out  of  the  whole  number,  Mr. 
Man  did  n't  get  but  three  lion-skins  that  could  be 
called  perfect. 

"Brother  Lion  went  home  to  his  mother  as 
fast  as  he  could  go  and  remained  quiet  a  long 
time.  And  now  you  tell  me  he  's  in  a  cage." 

Mr.  Rabbit  paused  and  shook  his  head  until 
his  ears  flopped. 


100  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

The  children  seemed  to  enjoy  the  story  very 
much;  so  much  so,  indeed,  that  Mrs.  Meadows 
wanted  Mr.  Rabbit  to  tell  some  of  his  own  queer 
experiences,  but  Mr.  Rabbit  laughed  and  said 
that  it  did  n't  seem  exactly  right  to  be  telling  his 
own  stories.  He  said  if  he  told  the  stories  just 
as  they  happened,  he  'd  have  to  talk  about  him 
self  a  good  deal,  and  people  would  think  he  was 
boastful.  He  declared  he  did  n't  feel  like  mak 
ing  his  young  friends  think  he  was  bragging. 

"  Oh,  we  shan't  mind  that,"  said  Sweetest  Su 
san,  "  shall  we,  brother  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course  not,"  replied  Buster  John. 

"  La !  we  all  done  hear  folks  brag,  till  we  got 
hardened  ter  braggin' !  "  exclaimed  Drusilla. 

So  the  children,  aided  by  Mrs.  Meadows, 
coaxed  Mr.  Rabbit  until  he  finally  consented  to 
tell  some  of  his  queer  adventures. 


VIII. 

BROTHER  TERRAPIN'S  FIDDLE-STRING. 

MR.  RABBIT  'moved  his  body  uneasily  about, 
and  scratched  his  head,  and  crossed  and  uncrossed 
his  legs  several  times  before  he  began. 

"I  declare  it  isn't  right!"  he  exclaimed  after 
a  while.  "  I  don't  mind  telling  about  other  folks, 
but  when  it  comes  to  talking  about  myself,  it  is 
a  different  thing." 

"  Don't  you  remember  the  time  you  tried  to  get 
Brother  Terrapin  to  give  you  a  fiddle-string?" 
asked  Mrs.  Meadows,  laughing  a  little. 

"  Oh,  that  was  just  a  joke,"  replied  Mr.  Rab 
bit. 

"Call  it  a  joke,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows. 
"  You  know  what  the  little  boy  said  when  the 
man  asked  him  his  name.  He  said,  says  he, 
'  You  may  call  it  anything,  so  you  call  me  to  din 


ner.' 


"  He  was  n't  very  polite,"    remarked  Sweetest 
Susan. 


102  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"No,  indeed,"  Mrs.  Meadows  answered  ;  "but 
you  know  that  little  boys  can't  always  remember 
to  be  polite." 

"I  think  we  were  at  your  house,"  suggested 
Mr.  Rabbit,  rubbing  his  chin. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Meadows.  "  In  the  little 
house  by  the  creek.  The  yard  sloped  from  the 
front  door  right  to  the  bank." 

"  To  be  sure,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Rabbit,  bright 
ening  up.  "  I  remember  the  house  just  as  well 
as  if  I  had  seen  it  yesterday.  There  was  a  little 
shelf  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  door  as  you 
came  out,  and  there  the  water-bucket  sat." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows;  "and  there  was 
just  room  enough  up  there  by  the  bucket  for 
Brother  Terrapin." 

"  That  's  so,"  Mr.  Rabbit  replied,  laughing, 
"and  when  he  used  to  go  to  your  house  to  see 
the  girls  they  'd  set  the  bucket  on  the  table  in  the 
house  and  lift  Brother  Terrapin  to  the  shelf  so  he 
could  see  and  be  seen.  I  remember  it  used  to 
make  him  very  mad  when  I  'd  tell  him  he  would 
be  a  mighty  man  if  he  was  n't  so  flat-footed." 

"  Oh,  you  used  to  talk  worse  than  that,"  cried 
Mrs.  Meadows,  laughing  heartily  at  the  remem- 


BROTHER    TERRAPIN'S  FIDDLE-STRING.     103 

brance  of  it.  "  You  used  to  tell  him  he  was  the 
only  man  you  ever  saw  that  sat  down  when  he 
stood  up.  I  declare !  Brother  Terrapin's  eyes 
used  to  get  right  red." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Rabbit,  after  a  pause ;  "  I  re 
member  I  went  to  your  house  one  day  and  I  car 
ried  my  fiddle.  When  I  got  there,  who  should 
I  see  but  old  Brother  Terrapin  sitting  up  on  the 
shelf.  I  expected  to  find  the  girls  by  themselves, 
but  there  was  Brother  Terrapin.  So  I  began  to 
joke  him. 

"  '  Howdy,  Brother  Terrapin  ? '  says  I.  '  If 
you  had  a  ladder  handy  you  could  come  down 
stairs  and  shake  hands,  could  n't  you  ? ' 

"  He  began  to  get  sullen  and  sulky  at  once. 
He  would  n't  hardly  make  any  reply.  But  I 
did  n't  care  for  that.  Says  I :  '  Cross  your  legs 
and  look  comfortable,  Brother  Terrapin ;  don't 
be  glum  in  company.  I  've  got  my  fiddle  with 
me,  and  I  'm  going  to  make  your  bones  ache  if 
you  don't  dance.' 

"  Then  I  whirled  in,"  said  Mr.  Rabbit,  "  and 
played  the  liveliest  tunes  I  could  think  of, — 
'  Billy  in  the  Low  Grounds,'  i  'Possum  up  the 
Gum-Stump,'  e  Chicken  in  the  Bread-Tray,'  and 


104  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

all  those  hoppery-skippery,  jiggery-dancery  tunes 
that  make  your  feet  go  whether  or  no.  But  there 
Brother  Terrapin  sat,  looking  as  unconcerned  as 
if  the  fiddle  had  been  ten  miles  away.  He  did  n't 
even  keep  time  to  the  music  with  his  foot.  More 
than  that,  he  did  n't  even  wag  his  head  from  side 
to  side." 

"  I  always  knew  Brother  Terrapin  had  no  ear 
for  music,"  remarked  Mrs.  Meadows.  "  If  that 
was  a  fault,  he  certainly  had  more  than  his  share 
of  it." 

"  I  ought  not  to  talk  about  people  behind  their 
backs,"  Mr.  Rabbit  continued,  trying  to  shake  a 
fly  out  of  his  ear,  "  but  I  must  say  that  Brother 
Terrapin  was  very  dull  about  some  things.  Well, 
I  played  and  played,  and  the  girls  danced  and 
seemed  to  enjoy  it.  I  believe  you  danced  a  round 
or  two  yourself?"  Mr.  Rabbit  turned  to  Mrs. 
Meadows  inquiringly. 

"  I  expect  I  shook  my  foot  a  little,"  said  Mrs. 
Meadows  with  a  sigh.  "  I  was  none  too  good." 

"  They  danced  and  danced  until  they  were 
tired  of  dancing,"  Mr.  Rabbit  resumed ;  "  but 
there  sat  Brother  Terrapin  as  quiet  as  if  he  were 
asleep.  Well,  I  was  vexed  —  I  don't  mind  say 


MR.  RABBIT  FIDDLING  FOR  BROTHER  TERRAPIN 


BROTHER    TERRAPIN'S  FIDDLE-STRING.    105 

ing  so  now  —  I  was  certainly  vexed.  But  I 
did  n't  let  on.  And  between  tunes  I  did  my  best 
to  worry  Brother  Terrapin. 

"  i  Ladies/  says  I,  i  don't  make  so  much  fuss. 
Let  Brother  Terrapin  get  his  nap  out.  You  '11 
turn  a  chair  over  directly,  and  Brother  Terrapin 
will  give  a  jump  and  fall  off  the  shelf  and  break 
some  of  the  furniture  in  his  house.'  This  made 
the  girls  laugh  very  much,  for  they  remembered 
the  old  saying  that  Brother  Terrapin  carries  his 
house  on  his  back.  '  Don't  laugh  so  loud,'  says 
I,  ( Brother  Terrapin  has  earned  his  rest.  He 's 
been  courting  on  the  other  side  of  the  creek,  and 
he  has  no  carriage  to  ride  in  when  he  goes  back 
and  forth.  Sh-h  ! '  says  I,  '  don't  disturb  him. 
When  a  person  sits  down  when  he  stands  up,  and 
lies  down  when  he  walks,  some  allowance  must  be 
made.' 

"  Brother  Terrapin's  eyes  grew  redder  and  red 
der,  and  the  skin  on  the  back  of  his  head  began 
to  work  backward  and  forward.  What  might 
have  happened  I  don't  know,  but  just  as  the  girls 
were  in  the  middle  of  a  dance  one  of  my  fiddle- 
strings  broke,  and  it  was  the  treble,  too.  I 
would  n't  have  minded  it  if  it  had  been  any  of 


106  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

the  other  strings,  but  when  the  treble  broke  I  had 
to  stop  playing. 

"  Well,  the  girls  were  very  much  disappointed 
and  so  was  I,  for  I  had  come  for  a  frolic.  I 
searched  in  my  pockets,  but  I  had  no  other  string. 
I  tried  to  play  with  three  strings,  but  the  tune 
would  n't  come.  The  girls  were  so  sorry  they 
did  n't  know  what  to  do. 

"  Just  then  an  idea  struck  me.  e  Ladies,'  says 
I,  '  it 's  a  thousand  pities  I  did  n't  bring  an  extra 
treble,  and  I  'm  perfectly  willing  to  go  home  and 
fetch  one,  but  if  Brother  Terrapin  was  a  little 
more  accommodating  the  music  could  go  right  on. 
You  could  be  dancing  again  in  a  little  or  no  time.' 

" '  Oh,  is  that  so  ?  '  says  the  girls.  '  Well,  we 
know  Brother  Terrapin  will  oblige  us.' 

"  '  I  'm  not  so  sure  of  that,'  says  I. 

" ( What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  '  says  he.  His 
voice  sounded  as  if  he  had  the  croup. 

" '  Ladies,'  says  I,  '  you  may  believe  it  or  not, 
but  if  Brother  Terrapin  has  a  mind  to  he  can  lend 
me  a  treble  string  that  will  just  fit  my  fiddle.' 

" '  Brother  Rabbit,'  says  he,  '  you  know  I  have 
no  fiddle-string.  What  would  I  be  doing  with 
one?' 


BROTHER    TERRAPIN'S  FIDDLE-STRING.    107 

"  '  Don't  mind  him,  ladies.  He  knows  just  as 
well  as  I  do  that  he  has  a  fiddle-string  in  his  neck. 
I  can  take  my  pocket-knife  and  get  it  out  in  half 
a  minute/  says  I. 

"  This  made  Brother  Terrapin  roll  his  eyes. 

"  '  Be  ashamed  of  yourself,  Brother  Terrapin/ 
says  the  girls.  '  And  we  were  having  so  much 
fun,  too.' 

"  '  If  my  neck  was  as  long  and  as  tough  as 
Brother  Terrapin's,  I'd  take  one  of  the  leaders 
out  and  make  a  fiddle-string  of  it,  just  to  oblige 
the  ladies/  says  I. 

"  The  girls  turned  up  their  noses  and  tossed 
their  heads.  i  Don't  pester  Brother  Terrapin/ 
says  they.  '  We  '11  not  ask  him  any  more.' 

"  '  Ladies/  says  I,  '  there  is  a  way  to  get  the 
fiddle-string  without  asking  for  it.  Will  you 
please  hand  me  a  case-knife  out  of  the  cupboard 
there?' 

"  I  rose  from  my  chair  with  a  sort  of  a  frown," 
continued  Mr.  Rabbit,  laughing  heartily,  "  but 
before  I  could  lift  my  hand  Brother  Terrapin 
rolled  from  the  shelf  and  went  tumbling  down  the 
slope  to  the  creek,  heels  over  head." 

"  Did  it  hurt  him  much  ?  "  asked  Sweetest  Susan, 
with  a  touch  of  sympathy. 


108  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  It  did  n't  stop  his  tongue,"  replied  Mr.  Rab 
bit.  "  He  crawled  out  on  the  other  side  of  the 
creek  and  said  very  bad  words.  He  even  went  so 
far  as  to  call  me  out  of  my  name.  But  it  is  all 
over  with  now,"  said  Mr.  Rabbit,  with  a  sigh. 
t(  I  bear  no  grudges.  Let  bygones  be  bygones.'"' 

"  I  never  heard  before  that  Brother  Terrapin 
had  a  fiddle-string  in  his  neck,"  said  Buster  John, 
after  he  had  thought  the  matter  over  a  little. 

"  In  dem  times,"  said  Drusilla,  as  if  to  satisfy 
her  own  mind,  "  you  could  n't  tell  what  nobody 
had  skacely." 

"  Why,  as  to  that,"  replied  Mr.  Rabbit,  "  the 
fiddle-string  in  his  neck  was  news  to  Brother 
Terrapin." 

There  was  a  pause  here  and  the  children  seemed 
to  be  somewhat  listless. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  think,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Meadows  to  Mr.  Rabbit ;  "  these  children  here 
are  lonesome,  and  they  '11  be  getting  homesick 
long  before  the  time  comes  for  them  to  go.  Oh, 
don't  tell  me ! "  she  cried,  when  the  children 
would  have  protested.  "  I  know  how  I  'd  feel  if 
I  was  away  from  home  in  a  strange  country  and 
had  nobody  but  queer  people  to  talk  to.  We  are 


BROTHER  TERRAPIN  TUMBLING  INTO  THE  CREEK 


BROTHER    TERRAPIN'S  FIDDLE-STRING.     109 

too  old.  Even  Chickamy  Crany  Crow  and  Tickle- 
My-Toes  are  too  old,  and  Mr.  Thimblefmger  is 
too  little." 

"  Well,  what  are  we  going  to  do  about  it  ? " 
asked  Mr.  Rabbit,  running  his  thumb  in  the  bowl 
of  his  pipe. 

"  I  was  just  thinking,"  responded  Mrs.  Mead 
ows.  "  Had  n't  we  better  bring  out  the  Looking- 
Glass  family  ?  " 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Rabbit,  "I  leave  that  to 
you."  To  hide  the  smile  that  gathered  around 
his  mouth  Mr.  Rabbit  leaned  his  head  over  and 
scratched  his  left  ear  lazily  with  his  left  foot. 

"  That 's  what  I  '11  do,"  Mrs.  Meadows  declared 
decisively.  "  These  children  want  company  they 
can  appreciate,  poor  things  !  " 

She  went  into  the  house,  and  presently  came 
out  again,  bringing  a  mirror  about  three  feet  wide 
and  five  feet  high. 


IX. 

THE    LOOKING-GLASS    CHILDREN. 

THE  frame  of  the  mirror  was  of  dark  wood,  cu 
riously  carved,  and  it  was  set  on  pivots  between 
two  small  but  stout  upright  posts,  made  of  the 
same  kind  of  wood.  As  Mrs.  Meadows  brought 
the  looking-glass  out,  it  swung  back  and  forth  be 
tween  these  posts,  and  its  polished  surface  shone 
with  great  brilliancy.  The  children  wondered 
how  they  were  to  amuse  themselves  with  this 
queer  toy.  Mrs.  Meadows  placed  the  looking- 
glass  a  little  way  from  them,  but  not  facing  them. 
The  frame  was  in  profile,  so  that  they  could  see 
neither  the  face  nor  the  back  of  the  mirror. 

"  You  come  first,"  she  said  to  Buster  John. 

He  went  forward,  and  Mrs.  Meadows  placed 
him  in  front  of  the  looking-glass.  As  he  turned 
to  face  it,  his  reflection  (as  it  seemed)  stepped 
from  the  mirror  and  stared  at  him.  Buster  John 
looked  at  Mrs.  Meadows  for  an  explanation,  but 
at  that  moment  she  beckoned  to  Sweetest  Susan. 


SWEETEST  SUSAN  MEETING  HER  REFLECTION 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS   CHILDREN.          Ill 

When  Buster  John  moved,  his  image  moved. 
Mrs.  Meadows  pushed  him  gently  aside  to  make 
room  for  Sweetest  Susan,  and  it  seemed  that 
some  invisible  hand  pushed  his  reflection  gently 
aside. 

Sweetest  Susan  stepped  before  the  looking- 
glass,  and  her  reflection  walked  out  to  meet  her. 
Brasilia  now  came  forward,  and  her  image 
stepped  forth,  looking  somewhat  scared  and 
showing  the  whites  of  its  eyes.  Mrs.  Meadows 
went  to  the  looking-glass,  gave  it  a  sudden  turn 
on  its  pivots,  and  carried  it  into  the  house. 

All  this  happened  so  rapidly  that  the  children 
hardly  had  time  to  be  surprised,  but  now  that  the 
looking-glass  had  been  carried  away  and  they 
were  left  with  their  reflections,  their  shadows, 
their  images  (or  whatever  it  was),  they  didn't 
know  what  to  do,  or  say,  or  think.  They  could 
only  look  at  each  other  in  dumb  astonishment. 
Brasilia  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence.  In 
her  surprise  she  had  moved  quickly  back  a  few 
steps,  and  her  image,  which  had  come  out  of  the 
looking-glass,  had  as  quickly  moved  forward  and 
toward  her  a  few  steps. 

"  Bon't  come  follerin'  atter  me  !  "  she  cried  ex- 


112  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

citedly.  "  Kaze  ef  you  do,  you  '11  sho'  git  hurted. 
I  ain't  done  nothin'  't  all  ter  you.  .  I  ain't  gwine 
ter  pester  you,  an'  I  ain't  gwine  ter  let  you  pester 
me.  I  tell  you  dat  now,  so  you  '11  know  what  ter 
'pen'  on." 

"  Don't  move  !  Please  don't  move  !  "  cried 
Sweetest  Susan  to  Buster  John.  "  If  you  do  I 
can't  tell  you  apart.  I  won't  know  which  is 
which.  That  would  n't  be  treating  me  right  nor 
mamma,  either." 

Naturally,  the  children  were  in  a  great  predic 
ament  when  Mrs.  Meadows  came  back.  She  saw 
the  trouble  at  once,  and  began  to  laugh.  It  was 
funny  to  see  Buster  John  and  Sweetest  Susan  and 
Drusilla  standing  there  staring  first  at  the  Look- 
ing-Glass  children  and  then  at  themselves,  not 
daring  to  move  for  fear  they  would  get  mixed 
up  with  their  doubles.  The  Looking-Glass  chil 
dren  stared  likewise,  first  at  themselves  and  then 
at  the  others. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  Mrs.  Meadows  asked. 
"  Why  don't  you  go  and  play  with  one  another 
and  make  friends  ?  It  is  n't  many  folks  that  have 
the  chance  you  children  have  got." 

66 1   don't  feel   like   playing,"    said    Sweetest 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS  CHILDREN.  113 

Susan.  "  I  'm  afraid  we  '11  get  mixed  up  so  that 
nobody  will  know  one  from  the  other." 

"  Why,  there  's  all  the  difference  in  the  world," 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Meadows,  trying  hard  not  to 
laugh.  "  The  Looking-Glass  children  are  all  left- 
handed.  You  have  a  flower  on  the  left  side  of 
your  hat,  the  other  Susan  -has  a  flower  on  the 
right  side  of  hers.  Your  brother  there  has 
buttons  on  the  right  side  of  his  coat ;  the  other 
John  has  buttons  on  the  left  side.  There  is 
a  flaw  in  the  looking-glass,  and  Drusilla,  being  a 
little  taller  than  you  two,  was  just  tall  enough 
for  the  end  of  her  nose  to  be  even  with  the 
flaw.  That 's  the  reason  the  other  Drusilla's 
nose  looks  like  it  had  been  mashed  with  a  ham 
mer." 

"  Yes  'm,  it  do  !  "  exclaimed  Drusilla.  She  in 
voluntarily  took  a  step  forward  to  take  a  nearer 
view  of  the  flawed  nose,  and  of  course  the  other 
Drusilla  took  a  step  forward  as  if  to  show  the 
flawed  nose.  "  Don't  you  dast  ter  come  'bout 
me  !  "  exclaimed  Drusilla.  "  Goodness  knows,  I 
don't  look  dat  away.  Go  on,  now  !  Go  'ten'  ter 
yo'  own  business  ef  you  got  any." 

"  I  don't  want  to  play  with  you,"  said  the  other 


114  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

Brasilia.  "  You  've  got  smut  on  your  face.  I 
don't  like  to  play  with  dirty-faced  girls." 

"  My  face  cleaner  'n  yone  dis  blessed  minnit," 
retorted  Drusilla. 

"  And  your  hair  is  not  combed,"  said  the  other 
Drusilla.  "  It  is  wrapped  with  strings,  and  you 
could  n't  comb  it  if  you  wanted  to.  I  think  it  is 
a  shame." 

"  Look  at  yo'  own  head  !  "  retorted  Drusilla 
angrily.  "  It 's  mo'  woolly  dan  what  mine  is. 
'T  ain't  never  been  kyarded  much  less  combed. 
An'  who  got  any  mo'  strings  roun'  der  hair  dan 
you  got  on  yone  ?  " 

"How  could  I  help  it?"  the  other  Drusilla 
asked.  "  You  came  and  looked  at  me  in  the  glass 
and  I  had  to  be  just  like  you,  smutty  face  and  all. 
I  don't  think  it  is  right.  I  know  I  never  looked 
like  this  before,  and  I  hope  I  never  shall  again." 

"  Tut,  tut !  "  said  Mrs.  Meadows ;  "  don't  get 
to  mooning  around  here.  You  might  look  better, 
but  you  don't  look  so  bad.  It  will  all  come  right 
on  wash-day,  as  the  woman  said  when  she  put  her 
dress  on  wrong  side  outwards.  Here  comes  Chick- 
amy  Crany  Crow  and  Tickle-My-Toes.  They'll 
be  glad  to  see  you,  no  matter  how  you  look." 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS   CHILDREN.  115 

And  they  were.  They  ran  to  the  Looking- 
Glass  children  and  greeted  them  warmly.  Tickle- 
My-Toes  stared  at  the  other  Drusilla  in  surprise, 
but  he  did  n't  laugh  at  her.  "  You  look  as  if 
you  had  fallen  down  the  chimney,"  he  said,  "  but 
that  does  n't  make  any  difference.  So  long  as 
you  are  here,  we  are  satisfied." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  it,"  said  the  other  Drusilla. 

"  Now,  then,"  remarked  Mrs.  Meadows,  "  you 
could  n't  please  us  better  than  to  sing  us  a 
song.  You  have  n't  practiced  together  for  a 
long  time." 

The  other  children  looked  at  one  another  in  a 
shamefaced  way,  and  then,  without  a  word  of  ob 
jection  or  explanation,  they  began  to  sing  as  with 
one  voice,  the  most  plaintive  song  that  ever  was 
heard.  It  may  be  called  :  — 

THE  LOOKING-GLASS  SONG. 

It 's  oh  !  and  it 's  ah  !     It 's  alack  !  and  alas  ! 
Just  imagine  you  lived  in  a  big  looking-glass  I 

Oh,  what  could  you  say  and  what  could  you  do 

If  you  lived  all  alone  in  the  toe  of  a  shoe  ? 

You  could  hop,  you  could  skip,  you  could  jump,  you  could  dance, 

And  you  'd  hear  very  little  of  "  should  n'ts  "  and  "  shan'ts." 

You  could  stump  your  big  toe,  and  it  would  never  get  hurt ; 

You  could  kick  up  the  sand,  you  could  play  in  the  dirt. 


116  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

But  it 's  oh  !  and  it 's  ah  !     It 's  alack  !  and  alas  ! 
Just  imagine  you  lived  in  a  big  looking-glass  ! 

Oh,  what  could  you  do,  and  what  would  you  say        , 

If  you  lived  in  the  pantry  all  night  and  all  day  ? 

You  could  say  it  was  jolly,  and  splendid,  and  nice  ; 

You  could  eat  all  the  jelly,  and  frighten  the  mice. 

You  could  taste  the  preserves,  you  could  nibble  the  cheese  — 

You  could  smell  the  red  pepper,  and  sit  down  and  sneeze. 

But  it 's  oh  !  and  it 's  ah  !     It 's  alack  !  and  alas  ! 
Just  imagine  you  lived  in  a  big  looking-glass  ! 

Oh,  what  could  you  do  if  you  lived  under  ground  ? 

You  could  ride  Mr.  Mole  and  go  galloping  round  ; 

You  could  hear  the  black  cricket  a-playiug  his  fife, 

For  to  quiet  the  baby  and  please  his  dear  wife. 

You  could  hear  the  green  grasshopper  frying  his  meat, 

Near  the  nest  of  the  June-Bug  under  the  wheat. 

You  could  get  all  the  goobers  and  artichokes,  too  — 

You  could  peep  from  the  window  the  grub-worm  went  through. 

But  it 's  oh  !  and  it 's  ah  !     It 's  alack  !  and  alas  ! 
Just  imagine  you  lived  in  a  big  looking-glass  ! 

"  Oh,  I  think  that  is  splendid,"  cried  Sweetest 
Susan. 

"  Mr.  Rabbit  does  n't  like  it  much,"  replied 
Mrs.  Meadows, "  but  I  tell  him  it  is  pretty  good 
for  children  that  were  raised  in  a  Looking-Glass." 

"  It  will  do  very  well,"  remarked  Mr.   Rabbit, 


THE  LOOKING-GLAS.S   CHILDREN.  117 

"  but  you  '11  hear  nicer  songs  by  the  time  you  are 
as  old  as  I  am." 

"  Dem  ar  white  chillun  done  mighty  well," 
said  Drusilla,  "  but  I  don't  like  de  way  dat  ar  nig 
ger  gal  hilt  her  head." 

"  Do  they  have  to  stay  in  the  looking-glass  ?  " 
asked  Buster  John.  "  If  they  do  I  'm  sorry  for 
them." 

"  I  ain't  sorry  fer  dat  black  gal,"  said  Drusilla 
spitefully.  "  She  too  ugly  ter  suit  me." 

"  Whose  fault  is  it  but  yours  ?  "  cried  Chickamy 
Crany  Crow. 

"  Yes,  whose  fault  is  it  ?  "  cried  Tickle-My-Toes. 

"  Come,  come  !  "  cries  Mrs.  Meadows.  "  We 
want  no  trouble  here." 

"  We  '11  not  trouble  her,"  answered  Tickle-My- 
Toes.  "  Old  Rawhead-and-Bloody-Bones  will  do 
the  troubling." 

"  Now  you  all  heah  dat !  "  exclaimed  Drusilla, 
in  some  alarm.  "L  ain't  pesterin'  nobody,  an' I 
ain't  doin'  nothin'  't  all.  Ef  I  can't  talk  I  des  ez 
well  quit  livin'.  I  'm  gwine  home,  I  am,  an'  ef  I 
can't  fin'  de  way,  den  I  '11  know  who  ^11  have  ter 
answer  fer  it." 

"  Well,  if  you  go,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows,  "  you  '11 


118  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

have  company.  The  other  black  girl  will  have 
to  go  too." 

"  How  come  dat  ?  "  exclaimed  Brasilia. 

"  It  would  take  me  too  long  to  tell  you,"  re 
plied  Mrs.  Meadows.  "  Why  does  your  shadow 
in  a  looking-glass  make  every  motion  that  you 
make  ?  Because  it 's  obliged  to  —  that 's  all. 
That 's  just  the  reason  the  other  black  girl  would 
follow  you." 

"  Don't  mind  Drusilla,"  said  Buster  John. 
"  She  just  talks  to  hear  herself  talk.  Her  mouth 
flies  open  before  she  knows  it." 

"  Well,  the  poor  things  won't  trouble  you 
long,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows.  "  They  '11  want  to  go 
back  home  presently." 

"  Do  they  have  to  stay  in  the  looking-glass  ?  " 
inquired  Buster  John,  repeating  a  question  he 
had  already  asked. 

"  Well,  they  were  born  and  raised  there,"  re 
plied  Mrs.  Meadows.  "  It  is  their  home,  and,  al 
though  they  are  glad  to  get  out  for  a  little  while, 
they  would  n't  be  very  happy  if  they  had  to  stay 
out." 

The  children  and  the  Looking-Glass  children 
played  together  a  little  while,  or  made  believe  to 


THEY  ALL  PLUNGED  INTO  THE  LOOKING-GLASS 


THE  LOOKING-GLASS  CHILDREN.  119 

play,  but  they  did  n't  seeni  to  enjoy  themselves. 
Mrs.  Meadows  noticed  this  and  asked  Mr.  Rabbit 
the  reason. 

"  Simple  enough,  simple  enough,"  Mr.  Rabbit 
answered.  "  They  are  so  much  alike  in  their 
looks  and  ways  and  so  different  in  their  raising 
that  they  can't  get  on  together.  How  would  I 
feel  if  my  double  were  to  walk  out  of  the  side  of 
the  house  and  sit  here  facing  me  and  mimicking 
my  every  motion  ?  I  would  n't  feel  very  comfort 
able,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  I  reckon  not,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows.  Pres 
ently  she  called  the  children,  brought  out  the 
looking-glass  and  told  them  it  was  time  to  bid  the 
others  good-by.  At  this  the  other  children  seemed 
to  be  very  well  pleased.  The  other  Buster  John 
and  the  other  Sweetest  Susan  shook  hands  all 
round,  and  the  other  Drusilla  made  a  curtsey 
to  the  company.  Then,  with  a  run  and  a  jump, 
they  plunged  into  the  big  looking-glass  as  you 
have  seen  youngsters  plunge  into  a  pond  of  water. 

"  Ho  ! "  cried  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  "  they  jumped 
in  with  a  splash,  but  they  never  made  a  ripple." 

"  They  have  n't  room  enough  in  there  to  turn 
around,"  said  Sweetest  Susan. 


120  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  Why  not  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Thimblefinger. 
"  To  them  the  world  is  a  looking-glass,  and  a 
mighty  little  one  at  that.  If  you  were  to  peep  in 
their  glass  now  they  'd  peep  back  at  you  ;  but,  as 
they  look  at  it,  you  are  in  a  looking-glass  and 
they  are  out  of  it.  And  I  would  n't  be  surprised 
if  they  are  a  great  deal  sorrier  for  you  than  you 
are  for  them." 

"  When  are  we  to  go  home  ?  "  asked  Sweetest 
Susan  plaintively. 

"  Oho !  you  want  to  get  back  into  your  look 
ing-glass  !  "  cried  Mr.  Thimblefinger  merrily. 
"  Well,  you  won't  have  long  to  wait.  By  rights, 
you  ought  to  stay  here  twelve  hours,  but  the  old 
Spring  Lizard  and  I  have  put  our  heads  together, 
and  we  've  fixed  it  so  that  you  can  get  back  be 
fore  sundown." 

"  Isn't  it  night  at  home  now?"  inquired  Bus 
ter  John. 

"  Why,  they  are  hardly  through  washing  the 
dinner  dishes,"  replied  Mrs.  Meadows. 

"  It  is  just  half  past  two,"  said  Mr.  Thimble 
finger,  looking  at  his  watch. 

"  Well,  it  look  so  dark  all  dis  time  dat  I  done 
got  hungry  fer  supper,"  remarked  Drusilla. 


X. 

MR.    BABBIT    AS    A    RAIN-MAKER. 

"  I  HOPE  it  won't  rain,"  said  Sweetest  Susan, 
"  for  then  the  spring  would  fill  up  so  we  could  n't 
get  out,  and  we  should  get  wet  down  here." 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  "the 
water  is  never  wet  down  here.  It  is  a  little 
damp,  that  's  all." 

"  Well,  that 's  enough,  I  'm  sure,"  remarked 
Mr.  Rabbit.  "It's  enough  to  give  me  the 
wheezes  when  I  first  get  up  in  the  morning,  and 
it 's  not  at  all  comfortable,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  There  is  one  funny  thing  about  springs," 
said  Mrs.  Meadows,  "  no  matter  how  much  it 
rains,  they  never  get  any  fuller.  They  may  run 
a  little  freer,  but  they  never  get  any  fuller. 
Speaking  of  rains,"  she  continued,  turning  to 
Mr.  Rabbit  and  laughing,  "  don't  you  remember 
the  time  you  set  yourself  up  as  a  rain-maker?" 

Mr.  Rabbit  chuckled  so  that  he  bent  nearly 
double. 


122  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  I  don't  remember  that,"  sighed  Mr.  Thimble- 
finger.  "  You  two  have  more  jokes  between  you 
than  you  can  shake  a  stick  at.  That  comes  of 
me  being  small  and  puny.  Tell  us  about  it, 
please." 

Mr.  Rabbit  fingered  his  pipe  —  a  way  he  had 
when  he  put  on  his  thinking-cap,  as  Mrs.  Mea 
dows  expressed  it  —  and  presently  said :  — 

"  It 's  not  such  a  joke  after  all,  but  I  '11  let  you 
judge  for  yourself.  Once  upon  a  time,  when  all 
of  us  lived  next  door,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
spring,  there  was  a  tremendous  drouth.  I  had 
been  living  a  long  time,  but  never  before  had 
seen  such  a  long  dry  spell.  Everybody  was  farm 
ing  except  myself,  and  even  I  had  planted  a  small 
garden. 

"Well,  there  was  a  big  rain  about  planting- 
time,  but  after  that  came  the  drouth,  and  the 
hot  weather  with  it.  One  month,  six  weeks,  two 
months,  ten  weeks  —  and  still  no  sign  of  rain. 
The  cotton  was  all  shriveled  up,  and  the  corn 
looked  as  if  it  would  catch  a-fire,  it  was  so  dry ; 
even  the  cow-peas  turned  yellow.  Everything 
was  parched.  The  creeks  ran  dry,  and  the  rivers 
got  so  low  the  mills  had  to  stop.  I  remember 


MR.  RABBIT  AS  A   RAIN-MAKER.  123 

that  when  Brother  Bear  tried  to  carry  me  across 
the  ferry  his  flatboat  ran  aground  in  the  middle 
of  the  river,  and  the  water  was  so  low  we  found 
we  could  wade  out. 

"  The  drouth  got  so  bad  that  everybody  was 
complaining  —  everybody  except  me.  Brother 
Wolf  and  Brother  Bear  would  come  and  sit  on 
my  front  porch  and  do  nothing  but  complain  ; 
but  I  said  nothing.  I  simply  smoked  my  pipe 
and  shook  my  head,  and  said  nothing.  They  no 
ticed  this,  after  so  long  a  time,  and  one  day,  while 
they  were  sitting  there  complaining  and  declaring 
that  they  were  ruined,  I  went  in  to  get  a  drink 
of  water.  I  came  back  gently  and  heard  them 
asking  each  other  how  it  was  that  I  did  n't  join 
in  their  complaints.  When  I  came  out,  Brother 
Wolf  says,  says  he  :  '  Brother  Rabbit,  how  are 
your  craps  ? '  I  remember  he  said  '  craps.' 

"  '  Well,'  says  I,  '  my  craps  are  middling  good. 
They  might  be  better,  and  they  might  be  worse, 
but  I  have  no  cause  to  grumble.' 

"  They  looked  at  each  other,  and  then  Brother 
Bear  asked  if  I  had  had  any  rain  at  my  house. 
'  None,'  says  I,  '  to  brag  about  —  a  drizzle  here 
and  a  drizzle  there,  but  nothing  to  boast  of.' 


'124  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  They  looked  at  each  other  in  great  surprise, 
and  then  Brother  Wolf  spoke  up.  '  Brother 
Rabbit,'  says  he,  '  how  can  you  get  a  drizzle  and 
the  rest  of  u.s  not  a  drop  ? ' 

" '  Well,'  says  I,  '  some  folks  that  know  me 
call  me  the  rain-maker.  They  may  be  right. 
They  may  be  wrong.  I  'm  not  going  to  squabble 
about  it.  You  can  call  me  what  you  please.  I 
shall  not  dispute  with  you.' 

"  Presently  they  went  away,  but  it  was  n't  long 
before  they  came  back,  bringing  with  them  all 
the  neighbors  for  miles  around.  They  gathered 
in  the  porch  and  in  the  yard  and  outside  the  gate, 
and  begged  me,  if  I  was  a  rain-maker,  to  make  it 
rain  there  and  then  to  save  their  crops.  They 
begged  me  and  begged  me,  but  I  sat  cross-legged 
and  smoked  my  pipe  —  this  same  pipe  you  see 
here.  Brother  Fox,  who  had  done  me  many  a 
mean  trick  (though  he  was  always  well  paid  for 
it),  got  on  his  knees  and  begged  me  to  make  it 
rain  for  them. 

"  Finally  I  told  them  that  I  'd  make  it  rain  for 
the  whole  settlement  on  two  conditions.  The 
first  condition  was  that  every  one  was  to  pay 
toll." 


MR.  RABBIT  SAYING  NOTHING 


MR.  RABBIT  AS  A  RAIN-MAKER.  125 

"  Toll  is  the  pay  the  miller  takes  out  at  the 
mill,"  remarked  Buster  John. 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Rabbit,  "you  take  your 
turn  of  meal  to  the  mill  and  the  miller  takes  his 
payment  out  of  the  meal.  Well,  I  told  them 
they  'd  have  to  pay  toll.  They  agreed  to  that, 
and  then  asked  what  else  they  'd  have  to  do,  but 
I  said  we  'd  attend  to  one  thing  at  a  time.  First 
let  the  toll  be  paid. 

"  They  went  off,  and  in  due  time  they  came 
back.  Some  brought  corn  and  some  brought 
meal ;  some  brought  wheat  and  some  brought 
flour ;  some  brought  milk  and  some  brought 
butter;  some  brought  honey  in  the  clean,  and 
some  brought  honey  in  the  comb ;  some  brought 
one  thing  and  some  brought  another,  but  they  all 
brought  something. 

"  Then  they  gathered  around  and  asked  what 
else  they  had  to  do.  l  Well,'  says  I,  '  you  cer 
tainly  act  as  if  you  wanted  rain  —  all  of  you  — 
there 's  no  disputing  that.  You  have  paid  the 
toll  according  to  agreement.  You  have  surely 
earned  the  rain,  and  now  there 's  nothing  for 
me  to  do  but  to  find  out  how  much  rain  you 
want.' 


126  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEF1NGER. 

"  With  that  they  all  began  to  talk  at  once,  es 
pecially  Brother  Bear,  who  lived  in  the  upland 
district,  where  the  drouth  had  been  the  worst, 
but  I  put  an  end  to  that  at  once. 

" '  Hold  on  there  ! '  says  I,  '  just  wait !  Don't 
get  into  any  dispute  around  here.  You  are  on 
my  grounds  and  at  my  house.  Let 's  have  no 
squabbling.  I  'm  not  feeling  so  mighty  well, 
anyhow,  and  the  least  fuss  will  be  enough  to 
upset  me.  But  the  world  is  wide.  Just  go  on 
yonder  hill  and  fix  up  the  whole  matter  to  suit 
yourselves.  Just  come  to  some  agreement  as  to 
how  much  rain  you  want,  and  as  soon  as  you 
agree  send  me  word,  and  then  go  home  and  hoist 
your  parasols,  for  there  '11  surely  be  a  sprinkle.' 

"  Well,"  Mr.  Rabbit  continued,  "  this  was  such 
a  sensible  plan  that  they  could  n't  help  but  agree 
to  it,  and  presently  they  all  went  to  the  hill  and 
began  to  talk  the  matter  over,  while  I  went  into 
the  house. 

"  This  was  in  the  morning.  Well,  dinner-time 
came,  but  still  no  word  had  come  from  the  con 
vention  on  the  hill.  I  went  out  into  the  porch, 
flung  my  red  handkerchief  over  my  face  to  keep 
the  flies  off,  and  took  my  afternoon  nap,  but  still 


MR.  RABBIT  AS  A   RAIN-MAKER.  127 

no  word  came  from  the  hill.  Then  I  fell  to 
laughing,  and  laughed  until  I  nearly  choked  my 
self." 

"  But  what  were  you  laughing  at  ? "  Buster 
John  inquired,  with  a  serious  air. 

Mr.  Rabbit  paused,  looked  at  the  youngster 
solemnly,  and  said,  "  Well,  I  '11  tell  you.  I  did  n't 
laugh  because  anybody  had  hurt  my  feelings.  I 
just  laughed  at  circumstances.  I  sat  and  waited 
until  the  afternoon  was  half  gone,  and  then 
slipped  up  the  hill  to  see  what  was  to  be  seen  and 
hear  what  was  to  be  heard.  Everything  was  very 
quiet  up  there.  Those  who  had  gone  up  there  to 
decide  what  sort  of  rain  they  wanted  were  sitting 
around  under  the  pine-trees,  looking  very  sour 
and  saying  nothing.  The  ground  was  torn  up  a 
little  in  spots,  and  I  thought  I  could  see  scattered 
around  little  patches  of  hair  and  little  pieces  of 
hide.  I  judged  from  that  that  the  arguments 
they  had  used  were  very  serious.  I  watched  them 
from  behind  the  bushes  a  little  while,  and  then 
Brother  Bear  walked  out  into  the  open  and  de 
clared  that  any  one  who  did  n't  want  the  rain  to 
be  a  trash-mover  was  anything  but  a  nice  fellow. 
At  this  Brother  Coon,  who  lived  in  the  low 


128  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

grounds,  remarked  that  anybody  who  wanted 
anything  more  than  a  drizzle  was  not  weh1  raised 
at  all. 

"  Then  I  soon  found  out  what  the  trouble  was. 
Brother  Bear,  living  on  the  uplands,  wanted  a  big 
rain  ;  Brother  Coon,  who  lived  in  the  low  grounds, 
wanted  a  little  rain  ;  Brother  Fox  wanted  a  tol 
erably  heavy  shower ;  and  Brother  Mink  just 
wanted  a  cloudy  night  to  coax  the  frogs  out. 
Some  wanted  a  freshet,  some  wanted  a  drizzle, 
and  some  wanted  a  fog. 

"  They  would  n't  agree  because  they  could  n't 
agree,"  continued  Brother  Rabbit,  "  and  finally 
they  slunk  off  to  their  homes  one  at  a  time.  So 
I  did  n't  have  to  make  any  rain  at  all." 

"But  you  couldn't  have  made  it  rain,"  said 
Sweetest  Susan  placidly. 

"  I  did  n't  say  I  could,"  replied  Mr.  Rabbit. 
"  I  told  them  I  would  make  the  rain  if  they 
would  agree  among  themselves." 

"  But  you  took  what  they  brought  you  ?  "  sug 
gested  Sweetest  Susan  in  a  tone  that  was  intended 
for  a  rebuke. 

"  Well,"  Mr.  Rabbit  answered,  "  you  know 
what  the  old  saying  is  —  '  Fools  have  to  pay  for 


\«      *  ""  ^ — *"  ^^^ 

' 


BROTHER  BEAR  ARGUING  THE  RAIN  QUESTION 


MR.   RABBIT  AS  A   RAIN-MAKER.  129 

their  folly.'  They  might  as  well  have  paid  me  as 
to  pay  somebody  else.  That 's  the  way  I  looked 
at  it  in  those  days.  I  don't  know  how  I  'd  look 
at  it  now,  because  I  'm  not  so  nimble  footed  as  I 
used  to  be,  nor  so  full  of  mischief." 

"  If  there  had  been  many  more  such  fools  in 
your  neighborhood,"  remarked  Mr.  Thimblefin- 
ger,  "  you  could  have  set  up  a  grocery-store." 

There  was  a  little  pause,  and  then  Mrs.  Mead 
ows,  looking  around,  exclaimed  :  — 

"  Just  look  yonder,  will  you  ?  " 

Chickamy  Crany  Crow  had  two  sticks,  and  with 
these  she  was  playing  on  an  imaginary  fiddle. 
Tickle-My-Toes  had  the  broom,  and  this,  he  pre 
tended,  was  a  banjo. 

The  two  queer-looking  creatures  wagged  their 
heads  from  side  to  side  and  patted  the  ground 
with  their  feet,  just  as  though  they  were  making 
sure-enough  music,  and  presently  Tickle-My-Toes 
sang  this  song  to  a  very  lively  tune :  — 

OH,  LULLYMALOO  ! 

I  '11  up  and  I  '11  grin  if  you  tickle  my  chin, 
And  I  '11  sneeze  if  you  tickle  my  nose  ; 

I  '11  up  and  I  '11  cry  if  you  tickle  my  eye  — 
But  I  '11  squeal  if  you  tickle  my  toes  ! 


130  LITTLE  MR.   THIMBLEFINGER. 

Oh,  grin  with  your  chinnery  in, 

And  sneeze  with  your  nosery  oze, 
And  cry  with  your  wipery  eye, 

But  please  don't  tickle  my  toes  ! 

I  '11  grin  and  I  '11  sneeze,  I  '11  cry  and  I  '11  squeal, 

And  scare  you  with  ouches  !  and  ohs  ! 
You  may  tickle  my  head,  you  may  tickle  my  heel, 

But  please  don't  tickle  my  toes  f 

Oh,  grin  with  your  innery  chin, 

And  sneeze  with  your  ozery  nose, 
And  cry  with  your  wipery  eye, 
•     But  please  don't  tickle  my  toes  !    • 

I  '11  grin,  tee-hee  !  and  I  '11  cry,  boo-hoo  ! 

And  I  '11  sneeze,  icky  chow  !  icky-chose  ! 
And  I  '11  squeal  just  as  loud,  Oh,  Lullymaloo  ! 

Whenever  you  tickle  my  toes  1 " 

Buster  John,  Sweetest  Susan,  and  Brasilia 
laughed  so  heartily  at  this  that  Chickamy  Crany 
Crow  and  Tickle-My-Toes  did  n't  wait  to  repeat 
the  chorus  of  the  song,  but  ran  away,  pretending 
to  be  very  much  frightened.  This  made  the 
children  laugh  still  more,  and  for  the  first  time 
they  felt  thoroughly  at  home  in  Mr.  Thimblefin- 
ger's  queer  country. 


XL 

HOW    BROTHER    BEAR'S    HAIR    WAS    COMBED. 

WHILE  Buster  John,  Sweetest  Susan,  and  Dru- 
silla  were  watching  Chickamy  Crany  Crow  and 
Tickle-My-Toes  run  away,  and  laughing  at  them, 
suddenly  the  sky  in  Mr.  Thimblefinger's  queer 
country  grew  brighter.  The  dark  shadow  of  the 
buttermilk- jug  had  disappeared,  and  there  were 
wavering  lines  of  white  light  flashing  across,  as 
though  the  sun  were  trying  to  shine  through. 
Along  with  these  flashing  lines  there  were  waver 
ing  lines  of  shadow  that  rippled  and  danced  about 
curiously.  There  seemed  to  be  some  tremendous 
commotion  going  on.  If  some  person  with  the 
learning  and  wisdom  of  an  astronomer  had  seen 
this  wonderful  display,  he  would  have  been  over 
come  with  awe  and  fear.  He  would  have  con 
cluded  that  the  sky  was  about  to  go  to  pieces, 
and  ten  to  one  he  would  have  left  his  unreflect 
ing  telescope  swinging  in  the  air,  and  crawled 
under  the  bed. 


132  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

But  there  was  no  astronomer  in  Mr.  Thimble- 
finger's  queer  country,  and  the  children  had  seen 
too  many  strange  sights  to  be  very  much  alarmed. 
Besides,  Drusilla  solved  the  mystery  before  they 
had  time  to  gather  their  fears  together. 

"  Shuh  !  "  she  exclaimed ;  "  't  ain't  nothin'  't  all 
When  dey  tuck  de  jug  outin'  de  spring  de  water 
'bleedge  to  be  shuck  up." 

And  it  was  true.  The  rippling  and  wavering 
in  the  sky  of  Mr.  Thimblefinger's  queer  country 
were  caused  by  lifting  the  buttermilk-jug  from 
the  spring.  As  soon  as  the  commotion  ceased,  it 
was  seen  that  across  the  sky,  from  horizon  to 
horizon,  dark  lines  and  shadows  extended.  They 
were  irregular,  and  branched  out  here  and  there 
in  every  direction.  Drusilla  gazed  at  them  for 
some  moments  without  venturing  to  explain  them. 
Suddenly  a  shadow  that  seemed  to  have  life  and 
motion  made  its  appearance,  and  darted  about 
among  the  dark  lines.  Drusilla  laughed. 

"  La  !  Hit 's  dat  dead  Km'  ober  de  spring,  an' 
dere  's  a  jay-bird  hoppin'  about  in  it  right  now. 
Ain't  I  done  heah  yo'  pa  say  dat  lim'  '11  hafter  be 
cut  off  'f o'  it  fall  an'  break  somebody's  head  ?  " 

"  Well,  well !     She  ain't  so  bad  off  up  here  as 


BROTHER   BEAR'S  HAIR   COMBED.  133 

I  thought  she  was,"  said  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  tap 
ping  his  forehead  significantly. 

"  Ain't  I  done  tell  you  dat  dey  's  mo'  in  my 
head  dan  what  you  kin  comb  out  ?  "  exclaimed 
Drusilla  indignantly. 

"  Speaking  of  combing  and  things  of  that 
sort,"  remarked  Mr.  Rabbit,  turning  to  Mrs. 
Meadows,  "  did  I  ever  tell  you  how  Brother  Bear 
learned  to  comb  his  hair  ?  " 

Mrs.  Meadows  reflected  a  moment,  or  pre 
tended  to  reflect.  "  Now,  I  'm  not  right  certain 
about  that.  Maybe  you  have  and  maybe  you 
have  n't ;  I  don't  remember.  How  did  you  teach 
Brother  Bear  to  keep  his  hair  reached  and 
parted  ?  Mostly  when  I  used  to  know  him,  he 
went  about  looking  mighty  ragged  and  shabby." 

Mr.  Rabbit  chuckled  for  several  moments  and 
then  said :  "  Well,  in  my  courting-days,  you 
know,  I  used  to  go  around  fixed  up  in  style. 
Many  and  many  a  time  I  've  heard  the  girls 
whisper  to  one  another  and  say,  '  Oh,  my  !  Ain't 
Mr.  Rabbit  looking  spruce  to-day  ? '  There  was 
one  season  in  particular  that  I  was  careful  to 
primp  up  and  look  sassy.  I  put  bergamot  oil  on 
my  hair,  and  kept  it  brushed  so  slick  that  a 


134  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

fly  would  slip  up  and  cripple  himself  if  he  lit 
on  it. 

"  It  so  happened  that  my  road  took  me  by  Bro 
ther  Bear's  house  every  day  —  right  by  the  front 
gate.  Sometimes  Mrs.  Bear  would  be  hanging 
out  clothes  on  the  fence,  sometimes  she  would  be 
sweeping  off  the  front  porch,  and  sometimes  she 
would  be  working  in  the  garden ;  but  no  matter 
what  she  was  doing  I  'd  cough  and  catch  her  eye, 
and  then  I  'd  bow  just  as  polite  as  you  please." 

"  What  were  you  doing  all  that  for  ? "  asked 
Buster  John. 

«  Well,  I  '11  tell  you,"  Mr.  Rabbit  replied.  "  I 
had  a  grudge  against  Brother  Bear,  and  I  wanted 
to  Avork  a  little  scheme.  Along  at  first  I  just 
went  on  by  the  back  of  Brother  Bear's  house, 
and  around  through  the  woods  home,  but  in  a 
few  days  I  'd  pass  by  the  house  and  then  get  over 
the  fence  and  creep  back  to  hear  what  Mrs.  Bear 
had  to  say.  One  morning  I  heard  her  talking. 
She  was  out  in  the  yard  fixing  to  do  her  week's 
washing  while  Brother  Bear  was  in  the  house 
dozing.  I  could  hear  what  Mrs.  Bear  said,  but  I 
was  too  far  off  to  hear  what  answer  Brother  Bear 
made. 


MRS.  BEAR  HANGING  OUT  CLOTHE? 


BROTHER  BEAR'S  HAIR   COMBED.  135 

"  Mrs.  Bear  says,  says  she  :  '  Honey,  you  ain't 
asleep,  are  you?  Brother  Rabbit  has  just  gone 
along  by  the  gate  dressed  to  kill.'  A  grum 
bling  sound  came  from  the  house.  Mrs.  Bear 
says,  says  she,  'I  wonder  where  he  goes  every 
day,  with  his  hair  combed  so  slick  ? '  Grumble 
in  the  house.  *  You'd  better  wish  you  looked 
half  as  nice,'  says  Mrs.  Bear.  Grumble  in  the 
house.  '  Well,  I  don't  care  if  he  is  a  grand 
rascal,  he  looks  nice  and  clean,  and  that  's 
more  than  anybody  can  say  about  you,'  says 
Mrs.  Bear.  Growl  in  the  house.  Mrs.  Bear  says, 
says  she,  '  Oh,  you  can  rip  and  rear,  but  Brother 
Rabbit  goes  about  with  his  head  combed,  and  he 
looks  lots  better  that  way  than  them  that  go 
about  with  rat  nests  in  their  hair  —  lots  better.' ' 

Here    Brother    Rabbit    chuckled    again.     "  I 

o 

thought  to  myself,  thinks  I,  that  I  'd  better  be 
getting  on  toward  home,  and  so  I  crept  back  up 
the  fence  and  went  on  my  way. 

"  The  next  day  as  I  was  going  along  the  road, 
who  should  I  meet  but  old  Brother  Bear  himself. 
Well,  here 's  a  row,  thinks  I,  but  it  did  n't  turn 
out  so.  Brother  Bear  was  just  as  polite  to  me  as 
I  had  been  to  his  old  woman. 


136  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  We  passed  the  time  of  day  and  talked  about 
the  crops  a  little  while,  but  I  could  see  that 
Brother  Bear  had  something  serious  on  his 
mind.  Finally,  he  shuffled  around  and  sat  down 
on  a  stump  beside  the  roadside. 

"  '  Brother  Rabbit/  he  says,  says  he,  '  how  in 
the  world  do  you  manage  to  keep  your  hair  so 
slick  and  smooth  all  the  time  ?  My  old  woman 
sees  you  passing  by  every  day,  and  she 's  been 
Avorrying  the  life  out  of  me  because  I  don't  keep 
my  hair  combed  that  way.  So  I  said  to  myself 
I  'd  ask  you  the  very  next  time  I  met  you.' 

"  Brother  Bear  was  looking  pretty  rough  and 
tough,  and  so  I  says,  says  I,  (  You  look  as  if  she 
had  been  tousling  you  about  it.' 

"  He  hung  his  head  at  this,  and  shuffled  around 
and  changed  his  seat.  Says  he  :  '  No,  it 's  not  so 
bad  as  all  that,  but  I  want  to  ask  you  plump  and 
plain,  if  it 's  a  fair  question,  how  you  comb  your 
hair  so  it  will  stay  nice  ?  ' 

"  I  looked  at  him  and  shook  my  head.  Says 
I,  '  Brother  Bear,  I  don't  comb  my  hair.' 

"  He  was  so  much  surprised  that  he  opened  his 
mouth,  and  his  tongue  hung  out  on  one  side  —  a 
big,  red  tongue  that  had  known  the  taste  of  inno 
cent  blood.  " 


BROTHER  BEARS  HAIR  COMBED.  137 

"  That 's  the  truth  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Meadows. 

Sweetest  Susan  shuddered. 

"  Says  he,  (  Brother  Rabbit,  if  you  don't  comb 
your  hair,  how  in  the  wide  world  do  you  keep 
it  so  smooth  ?  ' 

"  Says  I, ( Easy  enough.  Every  morning  my  old 
woman  takes  the  axe  and  chops  my  head  off — '" 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Sweetest  Susan. 

"  '  Takes  the  axe  and  chops  off  my  head,'"  Mr. 
Rabbit  continued,  as  solemn  as  a  judge,  " '  and  car 
ries  it  out  in  the  yard,  where  she  can  have  light 
to  see  and  room  to  work,  and  then  she  combs  it 
and  combs  it  until  every  kink  comes  straight  and 
every  hair  is  in  its  place.  Then  she  brings  my 
head  back,  puts  it  where  it  belongs,  and  there  it 
is  —  all  combed.' 

"  Brother  Bear  seemed  to  be  very  much  aston 
ished.  Says  he,  '  Does  n't  it  hurt,  Brother  Rab 
bit?' 

"  Says  I,  '  Hurt  who  ?     I  'm  no  chicken.' 

"  Says  he,  <  Does  n't  it  bleed  ? ' 

"  Says  I,  (  No  more  than  enough  to  make  my 
appetite  good.' ' 

Mr.  Rabbit  paused  and  looked  up  at  the  rip 
ples  of  light  and  shade  that  were  chasing  each 


138  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

other  across  the  sky  in  Mr.  Thimblefinger's  queer 
country.  Then  he  looked  at  the  children. 

"  The  upshot  of  it  was,"  he  continued,  "that 
Brother  Bear  went  home  and  told  Mrs.  Bear  how 
I  had  my  head  combed  every  day.  Woman-like, 
she  wanted  to  try  it  at  once ;  so  Brother  Bear 
laid  his  head  on  a  log  of  wood,  and  Mrs.  Bear  got 
the  axe  and  raised  it  high  in  the  air.  Brother 
Bear  had  just  time  to  squall  out,  l  Cut  it  off  easy, 
old  woman  ! '  when  the  axe  fell  on  his  neck,  and 
there  he  was  !  " 

"  Oh,  did  it  kill  him  ?  "  cried  Sweetest  Susan. 

"  That  *s  what  the  neighbors  said,"  replied  Mr. 
Rabbit  placidly. 

Sweetest  Susan  did  n't  seem  to  be  at  all  pleased. 
Seeing  this,  Mrs.  Meadows  exclaimed :  — 

"  To  think  of  the  poor  little  pigs  Brother  Bear 
killed  and  ate  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Rabbit,  "  and  the  lambs !  " 

"  Worse  than  that !  "  cried  Mr.  Thimblefin- 
ger.  "  Think  of  the  little  children  he  devoured ! 
Think  of  it!" 

"  I  'm  glad  he  had  his  head  cut  off,"  said  Bus- 
ter  John  heartily. 

"  Me  too,  honey,"  assented  Drusilla. 


xn. 

A    SINGING-MATCH. 

AFTER  telling  how  Brother  Bear  learned  to 
comb  his  hair,  Mr.  Rabbit  closed  his  eyes  and 
seemed  to  be  about  to  fall  into  a  doze,  as  old  peo 
ple  have  been  known  to  do.  During  the  pause 
that  followed,  Sweetest  Susan  saw  what  appeared 
to  be  a  bird  of  peculiar  shape  sailing  around  in 
the  sky  of  Mr.  Thimblefinger's  queer  country. 

It  was  long  of  body  and  seemed  to  have  no 
wings,  and  yet  it  sailed  about  overhead  as  majes 
tically  and  easily  as  an  eagle  could  have  done. 

"  What  sort  of  a  bird  is  it?  "  inquired  Sweetest 
Susan,  pointing  out  the  object  to  Mrs.  Meadows. 

"  Now,  really,  I  don't  know,"  was  the  reply. 
"  They  are  so  high  in  the  sky  and  I  Ve  seen  them 
so  often  that  I  've  never  bothered  my  head  about 
them." 

Mr.  Thimblefinger  climbed  on  the  back  of  a 
chair,  so  as  to  get  a  better  view  of  the  curious 
bird,  but  he  shook  his  head  and  climbed  nimbly 


140  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

down  again.  The  queer  bird  was  too  much  for 
Mr.  Thimblefinger.  Mr.  Rabbit  opened  his  eyes 
lazily  and  looked  at  it. 

"  If  I  'm  not  much  mistaken  —  "he  started  to 
say,  but  Drusilla  broke  in  without  any  cere 
mony  :  — 

"  'T  ain't  nothin'  't  all,  but  one  er  dem  ar  meller 
bugs  what  swims  roun'  in  de  spring." 

"  Why,  I  expect  it  is  a  mellow  bug,"  said  Mrs. 
Meadows,  laughing.  "  I  used  to  catch  them 
when  I  was  a  girl  and  put  them  in  my  handker 
chief.  They  smell  just  like  a  ripe  apple." 

"  I  thought  it  was  a  buzzard,"  said  Buster 
John. 

"No,"  remarked  Mr.  Rabbit,  "I  used  to  be 
well  acquainted  with  Brother  Buzzard,  and  when 
he 's  in  the  air  he  's  longer  from  side  to  side  than 
he  is  from  end  to  end.  I  don't  know  when  I  've 
thought  of  Brother  Buzzard  before.  I  never  liked 
him  much,  but  I  used  to  see  him  sailing  around 
on  sunshiny  days,  or  sitting  in  the  top  of  a  dead 
pine  drying  his  wings  after  a  heavy  rain.  He 
cut  a  very  funny  figure  sitting  up  there,  with 
his  wings  spread  out  and  drooping  like  a  sick 
chicken. 


LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER 


A   SINGING-MATCH.  141 

"  I  remember  the  time,  too,  when  he  had  a 
singing-match  with  Brother  Crow,  and  I  nearly 
laughed  myself  to  death  over  it." 

"  Oh,  tell  us  about  it,"  cried  Buster  John. 

"  There 's  nothing  in  it  when  it  is  told,"  re 
plied  Mr.  Rabbit.  "  There  are  some  things  that 
are  funny  when  you  see  them,  but  not  funny  at 
all  when  you  come  to  tell  about  them." 

"  We  don't  mind  that,"  said  Sweetest  Susan. 

"I  don't  know  exactly  how  it  came  about," 
resumed  Mr.  Rabbit,  after  a  pause,  "  but  as  near 
as  I  can  remember,  Brother  Buzzard  and  Brother 
Crow  met  with  each  other  early  one  morning  in 
a  big  pine-tree.  They  howdied,  but  there  was  a 
sort  of  coolness  between  them  on  account  of  the 
fact  that  Brother  Buzzard  had  been  going  about 
the  neighborhood  making  his  brags  and  his  boasts 
that  he  could  outfly  Brother  Crow.  They  had  n't 
been  up  in  the  tree  very  long  before  they  began 
to  dispute.  Brother  Buzzard  was  not  a  very  loud 
talker  in  those  days,  whatever  he  may  be  now, 
but  Brother  Crow  could  squall  louder  than  a 
woman  who  has  been  married  twenty-two  years. 
And  so  there  they  had  it,  quarreling  and  disput 
ing  and  disturbing  the  peace." 


142  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  What  were  they  quarreling  about  ?  "  Buster 
John  inquired. 

"  Well,"  replied  Mr.  Rabbit,  "  you  know  the 
road  that  leads  to  Brag  is  the  shortest  route 
to  Bluster.  Brother  Buzzard  and  Brother  Crow 
were  quarreling  because  they  had  been  bragging, 
and  a  little  more  and  they  'd  have  had  a  regular 
pitched  battle  then  and  there. 

"  '  Maybe  you  can  outfly  me,  Brother  Buzzard,' 
says  Mr.  Crow,  '  but  I  '11  be  bound  you  can't  out- 
sing  me.' 

"  '  I  have  never  tried/  says  Brother  Buzzard, 
says  he. 

" '  Well,  suppose  you  try  it  now,'  says  Brother 
Crow.  1 1  '11  go  you  a  fine  suit  of  clothes,  and  a 
cocked  hat  to  boot,  that  I  can  sit  here  and  sing 
longer  than  you  can,'  says  he. 

"  '  Oh,  ho  ! '  says  Brother  Buzzard,  '  you  may 
sing  louder,  but  you  can't  sing  longer  than  I  can,' 
says  he. 

" '  Is  it  a  go  ? '  says  Brother  Crow. 

"  '  It 's  a  go,'  says  Brother  Buzzard,  says  he. 

" ( It 's  no  fair  bet,'  says  Brother  Crow,  '  be 
cause  you  are  a  bigger  man  than  I  am,  and  it 
stands  to  reason  that  you  have  got  more  wind  in 


A   SINGING-MATCH.  143 

your  craw  than  I  have,  but  I  shall  give  you  one 
trial  if  I  split  my  gizzard,'  says  he. 

"Yes,"  remarked  Mr.  Rabbit,  scratching  his 
head  thoughtfully,  "  those  were  the  very  words  he 
used  — l  if  I  split  my  gizzard/  says  he.  Well, 
they  shook  hands  to  ratify  the  bet,  and  then  Bro 
ther  Crow,  without  making  any  flourishes,  raised 
the  tune,  — 

"  '  Oh,  Susy,  my  Susy,  gangloo  ! 
Oh,  Milly,  my  Molly,  langloo  ! ' 

"  Then  Brother  Buzzard  flung  his  head  back 
and  chimed  in,  — 

" '  Oh,  Susy,  my  Susy,  gangloo  ! 
Oh,  Milly,  my  Molly,  langloo  ! ' 

and  such  another  racket  as  they  made  I  never 
heard  before,  and  have  never  heard  since." 

"  Why,  what  kind  of  a  song  was  it  ?  "  inquired 
Sweetest  Susan.  "  I  'm  sure  I  never  heard  such 
a  song." 

"  Well,"  replied  Mr.  Rabbit,  "  you  are  young 
and  I  am  old,  but  you  know  just  as  much  about 
that  song  as  I  do,  and  maybe  more  than  I  do,  for 
you  have  n't  been  pestered  with  it  as  long  as  I 
have.  It  is  a  worse  riddle  to  me  than  it  was  the 
day  I  heard  it." 


144  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEF1NGER. 

"What  did  they  do  then?"  asked  Buster 
John. 

"  Well,"  Mr.  Rabbit  replied,  "  they  sat  there 
and  sang  just  as  I  told  you.  Brother  Buzzard 
would  stop  to  catch  his  breath  and  then  break 
out,  — 

" '  Oh,  Susy,  my  Susy,  gangloo  ! 
Ob,  Milly,  my  Molly,  langloo  ! ' 

and  then  Brother  Crow  would  squall  out,  — 

"  '  Oh,  Susy,  my  Susy,  gangloo  ! ' 
Oh,  Milly,  my  Molly,  langloo  ! ' 

"  They  sang  on  until  they  began  to  get  hungry, 
and  as  Brother  Buzzard  seemed  to  be  the  big 
gest  and  fattest  of  the  two,  everybody  thought 
he  would  hold  out  the  longest.  But  Brother 
Crow  was  plucky,  and  he  sang  right  along  in 
spite  of  the  emptiness  in  his  craw.  He  didn't 
squall  as  loud  as  he  did  at  first,  but  every  time 
Brother  Buzzard  sang,  Brother  Crow  would  sing, 
too.  By  and  by,  they  both  began  to  get  very 
weak. 

"  At  last,  as  luck  would  have  it,  Brother  Crow 
saw  his  wife  flying  over,  and  he  sang  out  as  loud 
as  he  could  :  — 

"  l  Oh,    Susy  !  —  Go   tell   my    children  —  my 


THE  SINGING-MATCH 


A   SINGING-MATCH.  145 

Susy,  —  to  bring  my  dinner  —  gangloo  !  —  and 
tell  them — oh,  Milly,  my  Molly,  —  to  bring  it 
quickly  —  langloo  ! ' 

"  It  was  n't  very  long  after  that  before  all  Bro 
ther  Crow's  family  connections  came  flying  to 
help  him,  and  as  soon  as  they  found  out  how 
matters  stood  they  brought  him  more  victuals 
than  he  knew  what  to  do  with.  Brother  Buzzard 
held  out  as  long  as  he  could,  but  he  was  obliged 
to  give  up,  and  since  that  time  there  has  been 
mighty  little  singing  in  the  Buzzard  family. 

"  But  that  is  n't  all,"  remarked  Mr.  Rabbit,  as 
solemnly  as  if  he  were  pointing  a  moral.  "  Since 
that  time  Brother  Crow,  who  was  dressed  in 
white,  has  been  wearing  the  black  suit  that  he 
won  from  Brother  Buzzard." 

"  Speaking  of  singing  birds,"  said  Mr.  Thim- 
blefinger,  turning  to  Mrs.  Meadows,  "  what  is 
that  song  I  used  to  hear  you  humming  about  a 
little  bird  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  just  a  nonsense  song,"  replied  Mrs. 
Meadows.  "It  has  no  beginning  and  no  end 
ing. 

But  the  children  said  they  wanted  to  hear  it, 
anyhow,  and  so  Mrs.  Meadows  sang  about  — 


146  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 


THE   LITTLE  BIRD. 

There  was  once  a  little  Bird  so  full  of  Song 

That  he  sang  in  the  Rose-Bush  the  whole  Night  long. 

And  "  Oh,"  said  the  Redbird  to  the  Jay, 
"  Don't  you  wish  you  could  sit  and  sing  that  way  ?  " 
"  Mercy,  no  !  "  said  the  Jay  ;  "  for  he  sings  too  late  ; 

I  sing  well  enough  for  to  please  my  Mate." 

There  was  once  a  little  Bird  so  full  of  Song 

That  he  sang  in  the  Rose-Bush  the  whole  Night  long. 

Then  "  Oh,"  said  the  Redbird  to  the  Crow, 
"  Don't  you  wish  you  could  sit  and  sing  just  so  ?  " 
"  Do  hush,"  said  the  Crow,  "  or  I  '11  start  for  to  weep, 

Be  —  caw  —  caw  —  cause  he  's  a-losing  of  his  sleep." 

There  was  once  a  little  Bird  so  full  of  Song 

That  he  sang  in  the  Rose-Bush  the  whole  Night  long. 

And  "  Oh,"  said  the  Redbird  to  the  Wren, 
"  Don't  you  wish  you  could  sing  so  now  and  then  ?  " 
"  Not  me,"  said  the  Wren  as  she  shook  her  Head  ; 
"  I  think  his  Mamma  ought  to  put  him  to  Bed." 

But  the  Singing  Bird  was  so  full  of  Glee 
That  he  sang  all  night  in  the  Rose-Bush  Tree. 


XIII. 

THE    STRAWBERRY-GIRL. 

"  Is  N'T  it  almost  time  for  us  to  start  home  ?  " 
said  Sweetest  Susan,  turning  to  Mr.  Thimblefin- 
ger. 

"Why,  you've  got  all  the  afternoon  before 
you,"  replied  Mr.  Thimblefinger.  "Besides  it 
will  be  downhill  all  the  way.  I  was  just  going 
to  tell  you  a  story,  but  if  you  really  want  to  go 
I  '11  put  off  the  telling  of  it  until  some  of  your 
grandchildren  tumble  in  the  spring  when  the 
wet  water  has  run  out  and  the  dry  water  has 
taken  its  place." 

"  Tell  the  story,  please,"  said  Buster  John. 

"  It 's  about  a  girl,"  remarked  Mr.  Thimble- 
finger.  "  She  was  called  the  Strawberry-Girl. 
My  mother  knew  the  girl  well,  and  I  've  heard 
her  tell  the  story  many  a  time.  But  if  you  want 
to  go  home  —  " 

"  Oh,  please  tell  the  story,"  cried  Sweetest 
Susan. 


148  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Thimblefinger  ;  "  once  there 
was  an  old  woman  who  lived  in  the  woods.  She 
lived  all  alone,  and  people  said  she  was  a  witch. 
She  was  so  old  that  the  skin  on  her  forehead  had 
deep  wrinkles  in  it,  and  these  wrinkles  caused 
everybody  to  think  that  the  old  woman  was 
frowning  all  the  time.  People  called  her  Granny 
Grim-Eye. 

"  Whenever  Granny  Grim-Eye  got  hungry  she 
went  to  a  strawberry-patch  in  the  field  near 
where  she  lived,  and  gathered  a  basket  of  straw 
berries.  One  day  when  she  went  after  straw 
berries  she  found  a  beautiful  little  girl  asleep  in 
the  patch. 

"  ;  Hity-tity  ! '  said  Granny  Grim-Eye,  '  what 
are  you  doing  here  ?  Where  did  you  come  from, 
and  where  are  you  going  ? ' 

"  The  little  girl  awoke  and  stared  at  Granny 
Grim-Eye.  She  was  tied  to  a  blackberry-bush 
by  a  silver  chain  so  fine  that  the  links  of  it  could 
hardly  be  seen  with  the  naked  eye.  '  Who  are 
you  ? '  asked  Granny  Grim-Eye. 

"  (  Nothing  nor  nobody,'  replied  the  little  girl, 
and  that  was  all  the  answer  Granny  Grim-Eye 
could  get  from  the  child. 


GRANNY  GRIM-EVE  FINDS  A   BEAUTIFUL  LITTLE  GIRL  ASLEEP 


THE  STRAWBERRY-GIRL.  149 

" '  Well/  said  Granny  Grim-Eye,  l  this  is  my 
strawberry-patch,  and  everything  I  find  in  it  be 
longs  to  me.  I  '11  take  you  home  and  see  what  I 
can  make  out  of  you.' 

"  So  she  took  the  girl  home  and  cared  for  her, 
giving  her  the  name  of  the  Strawberry-Girl.  In 
the  course  of  time  the  Strawberry-Girl  grew  to 
be  the  most  beautiful  young  woman  in  the  coun 
try,  but  her  mind  was  not  bright.  In  fact,  I 
have  heard  my  mother  say  that  the  Strawberry- 
Girl  was  as  stupid  and  as  silly  as  she  could  be, 
but  she  was  so  beautiful  that  people  were  inclined 
to  forgive  her  for  being  stupid. 

"  Granny  Grim-Eye  used  to  send  her  with 
strawberries  to  sell  to  the  rich  man  who  owned 
nearly  all  the  land  in  that  part  of  the  country. 
Now,  this  rich  man  fell  in  love  with  the  Straw 
berry-Girl,  but  when  he  found  that  she  was  both 
stupid  and  silly  he  gave  up  all  thought  of  marry 
ing  her.  He  was  very  fond  of  her,  nevertheless, 
and  bought  all  the  berries  she  had  for  sale.  But 
when  she  began  to  talk  he  would  turn  away  with 
a  sigh,  for  everything  she  said  was  stupid. 

"It  so  happened  one  day  that  Granny  Grim- 
Eye  was  too  sick  to  pick  the  strawberries  her- 


150  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

self,  as  she  always  had  done,  and  she  was  afraid 
to  trust  the  Strawberry- Girl  to  pick  them.  But 
the  rich  man  sent  word  that  he  was  to  have  a 
company  of  friends  tc  dinner  and  he  must  have 
some  strawberries.  There  was  nothing  for  Granny 
Grim-Eye  to  do  but  to  send  the  Strawberry-Girl 
to  the  patch.  Granny  Grim-Eye  called  her  up 
and  cautioned  her  not  to  pick  anything  but  good, 
ripe  strawberries,  and  then  sent  her  off  to  the 
patch. 

"  But  on  the  way  the  Strawberry-Girl  saw 
some  red  berries  growing  on  bushes,  and  these 
she  picked  and  put  in  the  basket  until  it  was  full. 
(  These  are  just  as  red  as  ripe  strawberries,'  she 
said,  ( and  they  will  do  just  as  well.  Besides, 
they  are  a  great  deal  easier  to  pick.' 

"  The  way  to  the  rich  man's  house  led  through 
a  very  thick  wood,  and  while  the  Strawberry-Girl 
was  going  through  this  wood  a  little  old  man 
stepped  from  a  hollow  tree  and  stood  in  the  path 
before  her. 

"  '  Aha  ! '  says  he,  ' I  find  you  alone  at  last. 
Where  are  you  going,  and  what  have  you 

got?' 

" { I  am  carrying   some   strawberries  to  your 


THE  LITTLE  OLD  MAN  DISCOVERS  THE  STRAWBERRY-GIRL 


THE  STRAWBERRY-GIRL.  151 

master/  says  the  Strawberry-Girl,  who  imagined 
that  the  rich  man  was  everybody's  master. 

" '  My  master  ! '  cries  the  little  old  man  ;  e  my 
master  !  But  if  he  were  my  master,  and  I  wanted 
to  get  rid  of  him,  I  'd  not  get  in  your  path,  for 
every  berry  in  your  basket  is  rank  poison.' 

"  '  Well,  anyhow,  they  are  red,'  says  the  stupid 
Strawberry-Girl. 

"  '  So  they  are,'  says  the  little  old  man.  '  But 
if  you  want  to  kill  your  master  carry  them  to  him.' 

" '  Oh,  I  don't  want  to  kill  him,'  says  the 
Strawberry-Girl.  '  He  pays  too  well.' 

" '  Once  you  belonged  to  me,'  says  the  little  old 
man.  '  I  tied  you  to  a  blackberry-bush  with  a  fine 
silver  chain,  and  left  you  there  until  I  could  at 
tend  to  some  business  in  the  city.  When  I  came 
back  you  were  gone.  I  hunted  for  you  high  and 
low  only  to  hear  that  you  had  been  found  by 
Granny  Grim-Eye.  What  is  the  result?  You 
have  grown  up  beautiful  and  stupid.  After  all 
these  years  you  don't  know  a  strawberry  from  a 
dragon's-apple.  If  you  had  remained  with  me 
you  would  have  grown  to  be  the  most  beautiful 
as  weh1  as  the  wittiest  woman  in  the  world.  You 
would  have  known  everything  that  is  hidden  in 


152  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

nature  —  everything  that  has  been  stored  between 
the  lids  of  all  the  books.  It  is  a  great  pity ! ' 

" l  Yes/  says  the  stupid  Strawberry-Girl,  i  I  ex 
pect  it  is ;  but  what  must  I  do  with  these  berries  ? 
I  have  n't  time  to  pick  more  ? ' 

"  '  Well,'  says  the  little  old  man,  *  I  '11  make  a 
bargain  with  you,  I  '11  fill  your  basket  with  the 
finest  berries  that  were  ever  seen,  and  I  '11  make 
you  the  wittiest  woman  in  the  world  if  at  the  end 
of  one  year  you  will  marry  me.' 

"  The  stupid  Strawberry-Girl  gave  her  promise, 
and  then  the  little  old  man  touched  her  on  the 
forehead  with  his  left  thumb,  pointed  at  a  bright 
star  with  his  right  forefinger,  and  then  went 
back  to  his  hollow  tree,  warning  the  girl  not  to 
forget  her  promise. 

"When  she  looked  in  the  basket  the  red 
dragon's-apples  had  disappeared,  and  in  their 
place  she  saw  the  finest  strawberries  that  had 
ever  been  grown.  These  she  carried  to  the  rich 
man,  who  was  as  much  surprised  at  the  size  and 
lusciousness  of  the  berries  as  his  guests  were  at 
the  extraordinary  beauty  of  the  young  girl.  They 
praised  her  beauty  to  their  host,  who  shook  his 
head  and  said  that  beauty  ceased  to  be  beautiful 


THE  STRAWBERRY-GIRL.  153 

when  it  was  tied  to  stupidity.  The  guests,  how 
ever,  would  not  believe  that  so  beautiful  a  crea 
ture  could  be  stupid,  and  to  satisfy  them  the  rich 
man  sent  for  the  girl  and  engaged  her  in  conver 
sation.  Her  replies  were  so  wise,  so  apt,  and  so 
witty,  as  to  astound  all  the  company,  while  the 
rich  man  was  dumfounded  with  astonishment. 

"  After  that,  when  the  Strawberry-Girl  came 
with  berries  for  sale,  the  rich  man  always  sent  for 
her,  and  her  wit  and  intelligence  were  so  pleasing 
to  him  that  he  finally  asked  her  to  be  his  wife. 
But  she  remembered  the  bargain  she  had  made 
with  the  little  old  man  who  had  met  her  in  the 
wood,  and  she  told  the  rich  man  that  she  would 
have  to  take  time  to  consider  his  proposal. 

"  She  was  very  much  worried.  She  fretted 
until  she  began  to  lose  some  of  her  beauty,  and 
when  Granny  Grim-Eye  saw  this  she  began  to 
ask  questions,  and  it  was  not  long  before  she 
found  out  all  about  the  bargain  the  Strawberry- 
Girl  had  made  with  the  little  Old  Man  of  the 
Wood. 

" '  Oho  ! '  she  cried.  f  He  is  up  to  his  old 
tricks,  is  he  ?  Well,  we  shall  see  ! ' 

"  So  she  went  to  her  chest  and  got  the  silver 


154  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

chain  with  which  the  Strawberry-Girl  had  been 
fastened  to  the  blackberry-bush,  and  wrapped 
and  twined  it  in  the  shape  of  a  star.  This  star 
she  fixed  on  the  Strawberry-Girl's  forehead  by 
means  of  a  velvet  band,  and  told  her  to  wear  it 
constantly. 

"  It  happened  that  on  the  very  day  the  year 
expired  the  Strawberry-Girl  was  walking  through 
the  wood.  The  little  old  man  jumped  from  his 
hollow  tree  and  ran  forward  to  claim  his  bride. 
But  when  he  saw  the  star  shining  on  her  fore 
head  he  gave  a  loud  cry,  threw  his  hands  be 
fore  his  eyes,  and  turned  and  fled  through  the 
wood  faster  than  any  deer  could  have  done.  No 
body  ever  saw  him  again,  and  the  Strawberry-Girl 
married  the  rich  man  and  lived  happily  for  many 
long  years." 

"  I  think  that  is  a  nice  story,"  said  Sweetest 
Susan. 

"  I  'm  glad  you  do,"  remarked  Mr.  Thimble- 
finger.  "  My  mother  knew  all  the  facts  in  the 
case,  and  I  've  heard  her  tell  it  many  a  time.  I 
may  have  left  out  some  of  the  happenings,  but 
these  and  many  others  you  can  supply  for  your 
self." 


XIV. 

THE  WITCH  OF  THE  WELL. 

WHILE  Mr.  Thimblefinger  was  telling  the  story 
of  the  Strawberry- Girl,  Chickamy  Crany  Crow 
and  Tickle-My-Toes  had  drawn  near  to  listen. 
Chickamy  Crany  Crow  stood  near  Mrs.  Meadows, 
and  seemed  to  be  very  much  interested.  When 
Mr.  Thimblefinger  had  concluded,  she  would  have 
gone  away,  but  Mrs.  Meadows  detained  her. 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows,  as  Chickamy  Crany 
Crow  tried  to  pull  her  hand  away ;  "  you  must 
stay  right  here  and  tell  the  children  the  story  of 
the  Witch  of  the  Well." 

"  They  know  it  already,"  said  Chickamy  Crany 
Crow,  trying  to  hide  behind  Mrs.  Meadows's 
chair. 

"  No,  we  don't,"  exclaimed  Buster  John.  "  We 
know  the  old  rhyme  about 

"  '  Chickamy,  Chickamy  Crany  Crow, 
Went  to  the  well  to  wash  her  toe, 
And  when  she  caiue  back  her  chicken  was  gone.' 


156  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

That 's  the  rhyme  we  say  iu  the  game,  but  we 
never  heard  the  story." 

"I  can't  tell  it  to  so  many,"  said  Chickamy 
Crany  Crow. 

"  Well,  tell  it  to  me,  then,"  replied  Mrs.  Mead 
ows  coaxingly.  "  The  rest  won't  listen  any  more 
than  they  can  help." 

"Well,"  said  Chickamy  Crany  Crow,  "one 
time  there  was  an  old  woman  that  lived  near  a 
well.  For  a  long  time  nobody  thought  she  was 
a  witch,  but  after  a  while  people  began  to  have 
their  suspicions.  There  was  a  quagmire  in  the 
road  right  in  front  of  the  old  woman's  house,  and 
every  traveler  passing  that  way  was  sure  to  get 
mud  on  his  feet.  No  matter  whether  he  was 
riding  horseback  or  in  a  buggy,  it  was  all  the 
same.  He  was  sure  to  get  his  feet  muddy.  And 
the  mud  was  so  black,  and  thick,  and  heavy, 
that  he  was  anxious  to  get  it  off  as  soon  as  pos 
sible. 

"  It  happened,  too,  that  every  time  a  traveler 
crossed  the  quagmire,  after  getting  the  black, 
heavy  mud  on  his  feet,  the  old  woman  would  be 
sitting  in  her  door  smoking  a  cob  pipe. 

" '  Howdy,  dearie  ! '  she  would   say.      '  Why, 


THE    WITCH  OF  THE    WELL.  157 

you  're  full  of  nasty  mud  !  Go  to  the  well  yon 
der,  dearie,  and  wash  it  off.' 

"  The  traveler  would  leave  his  buggy  and  horse, 
or  his  horse  and  saddle,  or  his  bundle  at  the  old 
witch's  door,  and  go  to  the  well  to  wash  his  feet. 
When  he  came  back  everything  Avould  be  gone, 
—  witch,  horse,  buggy,  saddle,  or  bundle.  The 
quagmire  would  be  dried  up,  and  the  road  itself 
would  seem  to  be  a  different  road.  Sometimes  it 
would  be  days  and  days  before  the  traveler  could 
find  his  way  to  the  place  where  he  started. 

"  One  day  a  traveler  came  along  the  road  in  a 
fine  carriage.  With  him  he  had  a  beautiful  little 
girl  with  long  golden  hair.  She  had  eyes  as  blue 
and  as  clear  as  the  water  in  the  spring  when  the 
sunshine  slants  through,  and  her  skin  was  as  white 
as  milk.  When  the  carriage  had  crossed  the 
quagmire,  the  traveler  found  that  his  feet  were 
covered  with  the  black,  heavy  mud.  He  could  n't 
imagine  how  it  had  happened.  There  was  no 
hole  in  the  bottom  of  the  carriage,  the  door  was 
shut  tight,  and  there  was  no  way  for  the  mud  to 
get  in.  He  said  to  the  little  girl:  — 

" '  Daughter,  are  your  feet  muddy  ?  ' 

" <  Not  a  bit,  father.' 


158  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  When  the  carriage  crossed  the  quagmire, 
there  sat  the  old  woman  in  the  door. 

" '  Howdy,  dearie  ! '  says  she.  %  (  And  how  did 
you  get  the  nasty  mud  on  your  feet  ?  Yonder  is 
a  well ;  leave  your  carriage  here  and  go  wash  it 
off.' 

"So  the  traveler  kissed  his  daughter,  for  he 
was  very  fond  of  her,  and  went  to  the  well  to 
wash  his  feet.  When  he  came  back,  daughter, 
carriage,  and  old  woman  had  all  disappeared.  He 
wandered  around  like  a  crazy  man  for  many  days, 
and  at  last  came  to  where  my  mother  lived  and 
told  his  story.  This  was  n't  the  first  time  she  had 
heard  such  a  tale,  and  she  concluded  to  see  what 
the  matter  was.  So  she  called  me  and  gave  me 
a  black  chicken  and  told  me  to  go  by  the  old 
woman's  house  and  see  what  happened. 

"I  took  the  chicken,  which  was  tied  by  the 
legs,  and  went  along  the  road  until  I  came  to  the 
quagmire.  I  tried  to  pick  my  way  around  it,  but 
the  black  mud  bubbled  up  and  flew  at  my  feet, 
and  finally  it  became  so  thick  and  heavy  I  could 
scarcely  walk.  When  I  got  across,  there  sat  the 
old  woman  smoking  her  cob  pipe  and  grinning. 

"  '  Howdy,  dearie  ! '  says  she. 


THE   WITCH  OF  THE   WELL.  159 

"  i  Howdy,  granny  ! '  says  I. 

"  i  Leave  your  fat  chicken  here/  says  she,  '  and 
go  to  yonder  well  and  wash  your  toe.' 

"  i  Thanky,  granny ;  that  I  will,'  says  I. 

"  So  I  went  to  the  well,  but  when  I  came  back 
my  chicken  was  gone.  And  so  was  the  old  wo 
man,  and  the  quagmire.  But  I  did  n't  get 
frightened.  I  went  back  to  the  well  and  began 
to  sing,  — 

"  '  Chickamy,  Chickamy  Crany  Crow, 
I  went  to  the  well  to  wash  my  toe, 
But  when  I  came  back  my  chicken  was  gone  — 
What  o'clock,  old  witch  ? ' 

"  I  had  n't  been  there  long  before  the  mud  be 
gan  to  bubble  up  again,  and  out  of  it  came  the 
old  witch.  And  then  what  seemed  to  be  a  thick 
mist  cleared  away,  and  there  was  the  old  witch's 
house,  and  inside  I  could  see  the  beautiful  little 
girl  crying  for  her  father.  I  intended  to  run 
home  and  tell  what  I  had  seen,  but  before  I  could 
move  out  of  my  tracks  I  heard  the  old  woman 
coming  to  the  well.  In  coming  up  out  of  the 
quagmire  she  had  got  mud  on  her  feet.  She  had 
pulled  off  her  shoes  for  comfort,  and  had  been  go 
ing  about  in  her  stocking-feet,  and  of  course  when 


160  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

she  disappeared  in  the  quagmire,  and  came  up 
through  it  again,  her  stockings  were  full  of  mud ; 
and  so  she  came  to  the  well  to  wash  them. 

"  I  did  n't  know  whether  to  run  or  stay,  but  I 
stayed,  and  as  soon  as  the  old  woman  got  in  sight, 
I  sat  on  the  ground  and  began  to  rock  my  body 
backwards  and  forwards,  crying,  — 

" '  Oh,  mercy  me  !     Oh,  what  shall  I  do  ? 
I  can't  get  the  black  mud  off  of  my  shoe  I ' 

"  The  old  woman  seemed  to  be  very  angry  when 
she  first  saw  me,  but  I  pretended  to  pay  no  atten 
tion  to  her.  I  just  rocked  backwards  and  for 
wards,  and  cried  that  I  couldn't  get  the  black 
mud  off  of  my  shoe.  The  old  woman  sat  down 
and  pulled  off  her  stockings,  and  began  to  wash 
them.  When  she  had  finished  one,  she  threw  it 
behind  her  on  the  grass  to  dry.  Being  wet  and 
heavy  it  fell  farther  from  her  hand  than  she  in 
tended.  It  fell  close  to  me,  and  I  picked  it  up 
and  stuffed  it  in  my  pocket." 

"What  for?"  asked  Buster  John  bluntly. 

"  Well,  I  hardly  know,"  replied  Chickamy 
Crany  Crow,  somewhat  embarrassed  at  the  sud 
denness  of  the  question.  "  I  wanted  to  get  even 


THE    WITCH  OF  THE    WELL.  161 

with  her  for  stealing  my  fat  chicken.  I  hardly 
knew  what  I  was  doing,  and  I  certainly  didn't 
know  how  it  would  turn  out.  Well,  I  stuffed  the 
old  woman's  wet  stocking  in  my  pocket,  and  kept 
on  crying  out  that  I  did  n't  know  how  to  get  the 
black  mud  off  of  my  shoe. 

" '  Do  as  I  do,'  said  the  old  woman.  Then  I 
went  and  sat  on  the  grass  in  front  of  her,  and 
washed  the  mud  from  my  shoe. 

"  For  the  first  time  I  saw  what  a  horrible-look 
ing  creature  the  old  woman  was.  Her  eyes  were 
sunk  in  her  head,  her  nose  was  hooked  over  her 
mouth,  and  she  had  two  long  upper  teeth  that 
hung  lower  than  her  under  lip.  I  says  to  myself, 
( Well,  old  lady,  if  you  are  not  a  witch,  there 
never  was  one.'  She  washed  her  stocking,  mum 
bling  and  chewing,  and  when  she  had  finished 
she  threw  it  behind  her,  and  sat  hugging  her 
knees,  and  glaring  at  me  in  a  way  that  made  my 
flesh  crawl. 

" ( What  is  your  name  ? '  says  she. 

" '  Chickamy  Crany  Crow,'  says  I. 

" { What  are  you  doing  here  ? '  says  she. 

"  Says  I,  1 1  went  to  the  well  to  wash  my  toe, 
but  when  I  came  back  my  chicken  was  gone.' 


162  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  Then  the  old  woman  hegan  to  laugh  like  a 
cackling  hen,  and  she  laughed  so  loud  and  laughed 
so  long  that  it  scared  me.  I  got  up  and  pre 
tended  to  be  going  home,  but  when  I  had  gone 
a  little  way  I  hid  behind  a  big  tree,  and  watched 
the  old  woman's  antics.  She  kept  on  laughing 
for  some  time,  and  then  she  reached  out  for  her 
stockings.  She  found  the  only  one  she  had  left, 
and  put  it  on.  Then  she  reached  around  for  the 
other,  but  failed  to  find  it,  because  I  had  it 
in  my  pocket.  This  seemed  to  puzzle  her.  She 
stood  up  and  looked  all  around  for  her  missing 
stocking,  but  it  was  n't  there.  Then  she  sat 
down  again,  pulled  off  the  stocking  she  had  on, 
and  put  it  on  the  other  foot. 

"  But  she  still  lacked  a  stocking.  This  seemed 
to  puzzle  the  old  witch  worse  than  ever.  Once 
more  she  pulled  off  the  stocking  and  put  it  on  the 
other  foot,  and  appeared  to  be  very  much  aston 
ished  because  one  foot  was  still  bare." 

"  She  couldn't  'a'  had  much  sense  !"  exclaimed 
Drusilla. 

"  Not  about  stockings  and  things  like  that," 
said  Chickamy  Crany  Crow.  "  Well,  she  sat 
there,  pulling  the  stocking  from  one  foot  and 


THE   WITCH  OF  THE   WELL.  163 

putting  it  on  the  other,  until  she  seemed  to  for 
get  about  everything  else.  I  watched  her  until 
I  got  tired,  and  then  I  thought  I  would  take  her 
missing  stocking  and  throw  it  in  the  quagmire. 

"  The  moment  I  did  this,  the  quagmire  began 
to  bubble,  and  hiss,  and  roll,  and  toss  and  tumble 
about,  and  soon  it  disappeared  altogether.  A  lit 
tle  fog  arose  when  the  quagmire  sank  out  of 
sight,  and  when  this  cleared  away,  there  stood  the 
carriage  that  had  brought  the  beautiful  little  girl 
with  the  golden  hair,  and  the  little  girl  herself 
was  sitting  in  it,  ready  to  go  to  her  father.  But 
this  was  n't  all.  All  around,  there  were  numbers 
of  horses  and  buggies,  and  all  sorts  of  bundles 
and  money-purses,  and  everything  that  travelers 
carry  along  with  them. 

"  Well,  I  got  in  the  carriage  with  the  beautiful 
little  girl,  clucked  to  the  horses,  and  drove  to  my 
mother's  house.  All  the  horses  with  saddles,  and 
all  the  horses  hitched  to  buggies,  followed  along 
after  us,  and  there  was  great  rejoicing  among  the 
people  as  we  went  by." 

"  What  became  of  the  old  witch  ?  "  asked  Bus 
ter  John. 

"  She  stayed  there,  trying  to  make  one  stock' 


164  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

ing  do  for  two  feet,  until  the  well  dried  up,  and 
after  that  I  don't  know  what  became  of  her." 

"  You  ought  to  have  been  a  young  man,"  said 
Sweetest  Susan,  who  had  been  reading  fairy  sto 
ries,  "  so  that  you  could  have  married  the  beau 
tiful  girl  with  golden  hair,  after  rescuing  her. 
Besides,  your  name  would  have  been  in  the 
books." 

"  Oh,"  answered  Chickamy  Crany  Crow,  smil 
ing  for  the  first  time,  "  there  are  plenty  of  names 
in  the  books  that  you  never  hear  of ;  but  now, 
wherever  little  children  get  together  to  play 
games,  you  will  hear  them  saying  the  rhyme  that 
teUs  a  part  of  my  story,  — 

"  '  Chickamy,  Chickamy  Crany  Crow, 
Went  to  the  well  to  wash  her  toe, 
But  when  she  got  back  her  chicken  was  gone.'  " 


'•-..-- '  •*  .-•'•'•'  *      '•'  \*~  „  'L 

«f&:M 


•  •i    T-,^.-',   • 


THE  GOLDEN-HAIRED,  BEAUTIFUL  LITTLE  GIRL 


XV. 

THE    BEWITCHED    HUNTSMAN. 

"  THERE  used  to  be  a  great  many  more  witches 
than  there  are  now,"  remarked  Mr.  Thimble- 
finger.  "  I  reckon  it 's  because  folks  have  more 
business  of  their  own  to  attend  to  ;  or,  it  may 
be  a  change  in  the  climate.  I  hear  old  people 
say  that  the  winters  are  colder  now  than  they 
used  to  be,  and  the  summers  hotter.  Maybe  that 
has  something  to  do  with  it.  Anyhow,  something 
has  happened  to  thin  the  witches  out." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Rabbit ;  "  I  've  noticed  that 
they  are  scarcer  than  they  used  to  be,  but  I  never 
inquired  into  the  whys  and  wherefores.  They 
never  bothered  me,  and  I  never  bothered  them." 

"  Well,  when  I  first  came  here,"  said  Mr.  Thirn- 
blefinger,  "I  noticed  Jimmy  Jay-Bird  bringing 
sand  and  mortar  every  Friday,  and  it  occurred  to 
me  that  he  was  preparing  to  lay  the  foundations 
of  a  witch's  house  in  this  country.  So  I  says  to 
myself,  says  I, '  I  '11  keep  an  eye  on  Jimmy,  and  see 


166  LITTLE  MR    THIMBLEFINGER* 

where  he  gets  in  and  out ;  for,  surely,  he  does  n't 
come  by  way  of  the  spring.'  But  Jimmy  Jay- Bird 
was  pretty  slick,  and  it  was  some  time  before  I 
found  out  where  he  came  down  and  went  out.  By 
some  means  or  other,  he  had  discovered  the  big 
hollow  poplar  on  the  spring  branch,  and  he  was 
coming  and  going  that  way." 

"I  know  where  it  is,"  said  Buster  John. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Thimblefmger.  "  It  is  the 
oldest  and  the  biggest  tree  in  the  whole  country 
next  door.  But  as  soon  as  I  found  that  Jimmy 
Jay-Bird  was  using  it  as  a  passageway,  I  drove  a 
peg  in  the  hole  and  put  an  end  to  his  schemes, 
whatever  they  may  have  been.  I  don't  know 
where  he  carries  his  sand  and  mortar  now,  and 
I  don't  care. 

"  But  I  did  n't  start  out  to  tell  anything  about 
Jimmy  Jay-Bird,"  continued  Mr.  Thimblefinger, 
after  pausing  a  moment.  "  I  was  thinking  about 
the  way  a  witch  was  caught  by  a  boy  no  bigger 
and  not  much  older  than  our  young  friend  here." 

"  Tell  us  about  it,  please  !  "  cried  Buster  John 
enthusiastically. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  "it's  not 
much  of  a  story.  You  can't  take  a  handful  of 


THE  BEWITCHED  HUNTSMAN.  167 

facts  and  make  a  story  of  them  unless  you  know 
how  to  fling  them  together.  The  best  I  can  do 
is  to  tell  it  just  as  it  happened  as  near  as  I  can 
remember. 

"  When  I  was  a  little  bit  of  a  fellow  —  now 
don't  laugh !  "  cried  Mr.  Thimblefinger,  seeing 
Mr.  Rabbit  wink  at  Mrs.  Meadows,  —  "I  mean 
when  I  was  in  my  teens.  Well,  when  I  was 
younger  than  I  am  now,  an  old  witch  lived  not 
far  from  our  house.  Her  eyes  were  red  around 
the  rims,  and  her  eyeballs  looked  as  if  they  had 
been  boiled.  Everybody  called  her  Peggy  Pig- 
Eye,  and  she  answered  to  that  name  about  as  well 
as  she  did  to  any  other.  Near  her  house  there 
lived  a  man  who  had  a  wife  and  a  son.  He  was 
a  tolerably  well-to-do  man,  and  all  the  neighbors 
thought  very  well  of  him.  But  he  used  to  go  to 
town  every  sale-day,  and  at  night  he  would  come 
home  feeling  very  gay.  I  don't  know  what  there 
was  in  town  to  make  him  feel  so  gay,  but  I  know 
that  he  used  to  come  by  our  house  singing  at  the 
top  of  his  voice  and  cutting  up  all  sorts  of  shines. 

"  Well,  one  night  when  he  was  going  back 
home  whooping  and  yelling,  he  saw  something 
dark  in  the  road  before  him,  and  he  rode  his 


168  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

horse  at  it  full  tilt.  The  horse  seemed  to  have 
little  taste  for  such  sport,  for  he  snorted  and 
wanted  to  shy  around  the  dark  object.  But  the 
man  clapped  spurs  to  the  horse  and  drove  him 
right  at  it.  The  black  thing  ran,  and  the  man 
spurred  his  horse  after  it.  It  ran  down  the  road, 
then  across  an  old  field  and  back  into  the  road 
again,  the  man  pursuing  it  as  hard  as  he  could 
make  his  horse  go.  Finally  it  ran  into  Peggy 
Pig- Eye's  yard  and  under  her  house,  and  the  man 
went  clattering  after  it.  Just  as  he  pulled  his 
horse  up  (to  keep  the  animal  from  running  broad 
side  into  the  house)  the  door  opened,  and  Peggy 
Pig-Eye  put  her  head  out. 

"  '  Oh,  it 's  you,  is  it  ? '  she  cried.  *  And  you 
are  after  me,  are  you  ?  Very  well ! '  With  that 
she  clapped  the  door  to,  and  the  man  rode  on 
home,  not  feeling  as  lively  as  he  had  felt. 

"  Now,  it  happened  that  this  man  was  a  great 
hunter.  He  had  a  pack  of  fine  dogs,  and  he  was 
very  fond  of  them.  He  hunted  deer  with  them 
by  day,  and  raccoons  and  'possums  by  night. 
The  first  time  he  went  hunting  after  riding  into 
Peggy  Pig-Eye's  yard  was  at  night.  He  did  n't 
go  very  far  from  his  house  before  his  dogs  struck 


THE  BEWITCHED  HUNTSMAN.  169 

a  warm  trail  and  went  scurrying  towards  the  big 
swamp  at  a  great  rate.  A  negro,  who  went  along 
to  carry  the  light  and  cut  the  tree  down,  shook 
his  head  and  declared  the  dogs  were  not  barking 
to  suit  him.  He  said  there  was  more  whine  than 
growl  to  the  noise  they  were  making. 

"  Anyhow,  the  dogs  went  scurrying  to  the  big 
swamp,  and  the  man  and  the  negro  followed  as 
fast  as  they  could.  The  dogs  treed  right  at  the 
edge  of  the  swamp,  and  when  the  man  and  the 
negro  got  there,  they  were  barking  up  a  big  pop 
lar.  The  negro  held  his  torch  behind  him  so  as 
to  '  shine '  in  the  raccoon's  eyes,  —  if  it  was  a 
raccoon,  —  but  he  could  see  nothing. 

"  '  Cut  the  tree  down,'  said  the  man. 

The  negro  shook  his  head,  but  he  whacked 
away  at  the  poplar  with  his  axe,  and  cut  it  so 
that  it  would  fall  away  from  the  swamp.  The 
tree  fell  with  a  tremendous  crash,  and  the  dogs 
rushed  into  the  top  limbs,  followed  by  the  man 
and  the  negro.  But  before  they  could  wink 
their  eyes,  something  tall  and  white  walked  out, 
and  cried :  — 

" ( You  are  always  after  me  !  ' 

"  The  negro  threw  down  the  torch  and  the  axe, 


170  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

and  ran  home  as  fast  as  he  could.  The  dogs  tried 
hard  to  catch  the  white  thing,  whatever  it  was, 
but  as  soon  as  they  got  near  enough  to  bite  it, 
they  tucked  their  tails  between  their  legs  and  ran 
howling  back  to  their  master. 

"  This  happened  every  time  the  man  went  out 
to  hunt  raccoons  and  'possums.  The  dogs  would 
strike  a  warm  trail  not  far  from  the  house,  run  to 
the  edge  of  the  swamp,  and  bay  up  a  tree,  and  then 
when  the  tree  was  cut  down,  something  tall  and 
white  would  walk  from  the  top  limbs,  and  cry  out : 

" '  You  are  always  after  me  ! ' 

"  The  man  thought  it  was  very  queer,  but  he 
was  n't  frightened.  He  said  to  himself  that  if  he 
could  n't  catch  raccoons  and  'possums,  maybe  he 
could  catch  a  fox.  So  he  called  up  his  dogs  one 
morning  just  about  day,  mounted  his  horse,  and 
started  out  to  catch  a  fox.  Before  they  had  gone 
a  hundred  yards  from  the  house,  the  dogs  found 
a  warm  trail  and  began  to  follow  it  in  lively  style. 
The  man  spurred  his  horse  after  them  and  harked 
them  on.  They  ran  around  in  a  wide  circle, 
and  presently  something  white  flitted  by  the  man, 
with  the  dogs  after  it  in  full  cry.  As  it  went  by 
it  screamed  out :  — 


THE  BEWITCHED  HUNTSMAN.  171 

" '  You  are  always  after  me  ! ' 

"  Then  it  disappeared,  and  after  a  while  the 
dogs  came  back,  panting  as  hard  as  if  they  had  run 
forty  miles.  The  man  went  back  home  and  sat 
by  the  fire  and  studied  about  it,  and  the  more  he 
studied  the  worse  he  was  troubled.  He  sat  so 
long  without  saying  anything  that  his  little  boy 
asked  him  what  the  matter  was,  but  the  man  shook 
his  head,  and  said  there  were  some  things  that 
children  ought  not  to  know.  The  boy  was  four 
teen  years  old,  and  very  small  for  his  age,  but 
he  had  plenty  of  sense,  and  was  very  brave.  He 
told  his  mother  that  his  father  was  in  some  deep 
trouble,  and  begged  her  to  find  out  what  it  was, 
and  tell  him  about  it. 

"  So  the  little  boy's  mother  set  herself  to  work 
to  find  out  what  was  troubling  her  husband. 
She  pressed  him  so  hard  with  questions  that  he 
finally  told  her  about  his  strange  adventures  while 
out  hunting.  The  wife  was  so  frightened  that 
she  begged  her  husband  not  to  go  hunting  any 
more,  but  to  give  up  his  dogs  and  attend  to  busi 
ness  that  was  not  so  dangerous. 

"  The  man  promised  that  he  would  hunt  no 
more  raccoons  or  'possums  or  foxes,  but  he  said 


172  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

he  needed  his  dogs  to  hunt  deer.  The  woman 
told  her  son  all  that  her  husband  had  said  to 
her,  and  after  that  the  little  boy  made  it  a  habit 
to  go  off  in  the  woods  and  sit  at  the  foot  of  a  big 
chestnut-tree,  and  wonder  what  it  was  that  ran 
before  his  father's  dogs. 

"  Matters  went  on  this  way  until  finally  one 
day  the  man  said  he  would  go  out  and  catch  a 
deer.  He  called  his  dogs,  especially  Old  Top,  the 
oldest  one  of  all.  Top  was  a  big  hound,  and  hunted 
nothing  else  but  deer,  and  he  was  never  known 
to  fail  to  run  down  and  catch  the  deer  he  got  after. 
Old  Top  went  along  when  he  was  called,  but  it 
was  very  plain  to  the  little  boy,  who  was  watching, 
that  he  did  n't  go  willingly.  Anyhow,  Old  Top 
went,  though  he  looked  back  at  the  little  boy  and 
wagged  his  tail  knowingly  more  than  once. 

"Before  the  hunter  got  out  of  hearing,  the 
dogs  struck  a  trail  and  pursued  it  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  big  woods  beyond  the  creek.  For 
a  long  time  the  little  boy  listened  to  the  dogs  run 
ning.  Sometimes  they  seemed  to  come  nearer, 
and  then  they  would  go  farther,  and  finally  the 
sound  of  their  trailing  died  away  altogether. 

"  After    waiting  and  listening  for  some  time, 


THE   BEWITCHED  HUNTSMAN.  173 

the  little  boy  went  into  the  woods  and  sat  at  the 
foot  of  the  chestnut-tree.  While  he  was  sitting 
there  thinking,  and  watching  the  big  black  ants 
chase  each  other  up  and  down  the  tree,  he  heard 
the  bushes  shake,  and  suddenly  a  little  old  man 
appeared  before  him. 

" '  Heyday  ! '  said  the  little  old  man.  t  You 
are  too  young  to  be  thinking.  Leave  thoughts 
for  old  people ;  you  should  be  at  play.' 

"  ( But  sometimes,'  replied  the  little  boy,  '  chil 
dren  have  to  think,  too.  It  does  n't  make  my 
headache  to  think.' 

"  '  I  see,  I  see  ! '  exclaimed  the  little  old  man ; 
'  your  name  is  Three  Wits.  Three  Wits,  how  are 
you  ?  I  hope  you  are  well.  You  ought  to  have 
come  here  a  little  soones.  There  is  a  famous 
hunt  going  on  in  these  woods.  It  passed  here 
awhile  ago  —  a  fool  on  a  frightened  horse  and 
seven  crazy  dogs  galloping  after  Satan's  sister. 
Oh,  it  is  jolly  !  Stay  where  you  are,  Three  Wits. 
This  famous  hunt  will  pass  this  way  again  directly, 
and  you  will  have  a  plain  view  of  it.' 

"  After  a  while  the  little  boy  heard  the  dogs 
coming,  and  presently  he  saw  the  strangest  sight 
his  eyes  had  ever  beheld.  Going  through  the 


174  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

woods  as  swift  as  the  wind,  he  saw  a  great  white 
Stag.  On  the  back  of  the  Stag,  and  holding  to 
its  antlers,  was  an  old  woman.  She  was  grinning 
horribly,  and  her  gray  hair  was  streaming  out  be 
hind  her  like  a  ragged  banner.  The  Stag,  bear 
ing  the  old  woman,  rushed  through  the  woods 
and  disappeared.  Then  came  the  dogs  in  full 
cry,  and  after  the  dogs  came  the  little  boy's 
father,  spurring  his  horse  and  yelling  in  the  ex 
citement  of  the  chase. 

"'What  do  you  think  of  it,  Three  Wits?' 
asked  the  little  old  man,  laughing. 

"  '  I  don't  like  it,'  replied  the  boy.  '  That  man 
is  my  father.' 

"  '  Your  father ! '  cried  the  little  old  man. 
' Oho!  That  alters  the  case.  Well,  well!  Let's 
see  —  let 's  see  ! ' 

"  The  little  old  man  took  from  the  wallet  he 
had  on  his  back  a  thick  book  with  a  red  cover. 
Then  he  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  chestnut-tree  and 
turned  the  well-thumbed  leaves  until  he  found  the 
place  he  was  hunting  for.  He  closed  the  book, 
but  kept  his  forefinger  between  the  leaves,  and 
took  the  little  boy's  hand  in  his. 


THE  LITTLE  OLD  MAN.  THREE  WITS,  AND  THE  STAG 


XVI. 

THE     THREE     IVORY     BOBBINS. 

"  THE  little  old  man  took  the  boy's  hand  in  his, 
but  before  he  could  say  anything,  a  rustling  was 
heard  in  the  bushes.  Presently,  Old  Top,  the  deer- 
hound,  made  his  appearance.  He  went  up  to  the 
boy,  smelt  of  him,  wagged  his  tail  as  a  sign  of 
satisfaction,  and  then  curled  up  in  the  leaves  as 
if  to  take  a  nap.  But  he  didn't  go  to  sleep. 
Every  once  in  awhile,  Old  Top  raised  his  head 
and  listened  wistfully  to  the  running  dogs  that 
could  be  heard  in  the  distance. 

"  '  A  very  sensible  dog ! '  exclaimed  the  little 
old  man.  '  He  knows  something  is  wrong.' 

"  '  What  is  it  ?  '  asked  the  boy. 

"  '  Well,  Three  Wits,'  said  the  little  old  man, 
'  I  '11  tell  you.  The  man,  the  horse,  and  the  dogs, 
are  under  a  spell.  They  are  bewitched,  and  they 
will  continue  to  be  bewitched  until  doomsday, 
unless  the  spell  is  broken.  They  will  go  round 
and  round  on  the  trail  until  they  exhaust  them- 


176  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

selves,  and  then  they  will  gradually  grow  thinner 
and  thinner  until  they  disappear  ;  and  then  no 
thing  will  be  heard  but  the  barking  of  the  dogs, 
and  the  sound  of  that  will  grow  fainter  and 
fainter,  until  no  human  ear  can  hear  it.  Now, 
the  question  is,  Three  Wits,  do  you  wish  the  spell 
broken  ? ' 

"'I  do,'  replied  the  boy,  'for  my 'mother's 
sake.' 

"  '  Now  that  is  well  spoken,'  said  the  old  man, 
rising  and  laying  his  hand  gently  on  the  boy's 
head.  (  For,  behold,  Three  Wits,  what  is  written 
in  the  book.' 

"  The  old  man  opened  the  red  volume  and  read 
as  follows,  pointing  to  each  word  with  his  fin 
ger  :— 

"  {  Whoever  shall,  for  the  sake  of  his  mother, 
earnestly  desire  to  break  the  spells  worked  by 
Paggia  Paggiola,  the  Hunting- Witch,  is  in  a  way 
to  have  his  desire  fulfilled.  For  this  is  the  indis 
pensable  condition.  Moreover,  he  who  hopes  to 
succeed  must  have  the  innocence  of  youth  and 
the  courage  of  manhood.  On  his  left  arm  there 
should  grow  a  mole,  and  in  this  mole  are  three 
white  hairs.' 


THE   THREE  IVORY  BOBBINS.  177 

"  '  I  have  the  mole,'  said  the  boy,  opening  his 
vest. 

"  Sure  enough,  there  was  the  mole,  and  on  the 
mole  were  growing  three  long  white  hairs  as  fine 
as  silk.  With  a  pair  of  silver  tweezers  that  he 
found  in  his  wallet,  the  little  old  man  pulled  the 
long  white  hairs  from  the  mole.  One  by  one  he 
pulled  them.  One  by  one  he  ran  them  through 
his  fingers,  and  one  by  one  they  seemed  to  grow 
longer  and  stronger,  each  time  they  were  pulled 
through  the  little  old  man's  swift-moving  fin 
gers. 

"  Then,  searching  in  his  wallet,  he  found  three 
ivory  bobbins  ;  and  on  these  he  wound  the  long, 
strong,  and  silken  hairs.  He  wound  and  wound, 
and  as  he  wound  he  sang  :  — 

"  '  Now  on  this  bobbin  I  wind  a  hair, 

White,  and  silken,  and  long  ; 
I  wind  it  slow,  I  wind  it  fair, 
Glossy,  and  white,  and  strong. 

" '  I  wind  it  here  in  shade  and  sun, 
For  one,  one,  one  are  three  — 
Three  and  no  more  where  the  stag  shall  run, 
Close  by  the  chestnut-tree. 

" '  And  one  shall  catch,  and  two  shall  hold, 
And  three  shall  clamp  and  kill  ; 


178  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

Just  say  to  your  hand,  Be  steady  and  bold  ; 
And  say  to  your  heart,  I  will.' 

"  The  boy  was  surprised  to  see,  as  the  old  man 
sang  and  wound,  that  the  white  hairs  spun  out 
into  silver  wires  hundreds  of  feet  long,  and 
stronger  than  steel. 

" '  Take  these,  Three  Wits,'  said  the  old  man, 
after  he  had  finished  winding  the  bobbins.  '  Take 
these,  and  when  the  hunt  runs  this  way  again, 
fling  one  at  the  Stag,  and  one  at  the  dogs,  and 
one  at  the  horse  the  huntsman  rides.  You  must 
fling  them  quickly,  one  after  the  other.  It  is 
easy  enough  to  miss  the  Stag,  but  you  must  not 
fail  to  catch  the  dogs.  You  may  fail  on  the  Stag 
and  horse,  but  you  must  not  fail  on  the  dogs. 
Be  strong.  Brace  yourself  for  three  quick  and 
hard  throws.' 

"  Then  they  stood  there  listening ;  and  pres 
ently  Old  Top,  the  deerhound,  raised  his  head  and 
whistled  through  his  nose,  the  whistle  ending  in 
a  whine. 

"  i  They  are  coming  now,  Three  Wits  ! '  ex 
claimed  the  little  old  man.  '  Get  ready  !  Throw 
quick  and  hard  !  Don't  be  afraid  ! ' 

"  In  the  distance,  the  baying  of  the  dogs  could 


THE   THREE  IVORY  BOBBINS.  179 

be  heard,  and  Old  Top  rose  and  shook  himself 
and  growled.  In  another  moment  the  Stag, 
ridden  by  the  grinning  old  woman,  flitted  past ; 
but,  quick  as  a  flash,  Three  Wits  threw  the  first 
bobbin,  and  he  threw  it  so  hard  that  it  made  a 
zooning  sound  in  the  air.  The  Stag  made  one 
tremendous  bound  and  disappeared.  The  dogs 
came  next,  and  Three  Wits  threw  the  second  bob 
bin.  It  zooned  through  the  air,  and  the  silver 
wire  unwound  with  a  twanging  sound,  and  fell 
full  upon  the  panting  and  baying  pack.  It  fell 
upon  them,  and  wound  itself  about  them,  and 
smothered  their  cries,  and  held  them  fast  in  its 
glistening  meshes. 

"  Then  came  the  rushing  horse  and  its  furious 
rider.  Three  Wits  threw  the  third  bobbin,  but  the 
horse  shied  at  the  motion  of  the  boy's  hand,  and 
flew  through  the  woods  in  the  direction  taken  by 
the  Stag.  When  Three  Wits  saw  both  the  Stag 
and  the  horse  escape,  he  fell  upon  the  ground 
and  began  to  weep. 

" (  Hity-tity  ! '  exclaimed  the  little  old  man, 
coming  from  behind  the  tree  where  he  had 
concealed  himself.  *  What  's  this  ?  Why,  I  was 
about  to  cry  "  Bravo  !  "  and  here  I  find  you  pre- 


180  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

tending  to  be  a  baby.  Get  up.  If  I  am  not 
mistaken  you  have  accomplished  even  more  than 
I  expected  you  would.  Let 's  see.' 

"  He  lifted  Three  Wits  to  his  feet,  and  then  the 
two  went  to  where  the  hunt  had  passed.  At  one 
point  the  dogs  were  entangled  in  the  silver  wire, 
and  were  unable  to  free  themselves.  A  little 
farther  in,  they  found  a  thick  wisp  of  gray  hair 
which  the  wire  had  cut  from  the  head  of  the 
grinning  old  woman  who  rode  the  Stag.  The 
little  old  man  clapped  his  hands  with  delight  and 
cut  some  joyful  capers,  for  he  was  very  nimble. 

"  i  Good ! '  he  exclaimed.  '  Another  half  inch 
and  you  would  have  cut  off  her  head  instead 
of  her  hair  !  But  where  is  the  bobbin  ?  I  don't 
see  the  bobbin  !  We  must  have  the  bobbin  ! ' 

"  Three  Wits  hunted,  but  he  could  find  no 
bobbin.  Then  he  caught  hold  of  the  wire,  and 
found  that  it  led  into  the  woods  the  way  the  Stag 
had  gone.  He  caught  hold  of  it  and  followed  it 
along,  calling  to  the  little  old  man.  They  fol 
lowed  the  silver  wire  far  into  the  woods,  and 
finally  they  came  to  the  end  of  it,  and  there  was 
the  Stag,  strangled  and  dead.  The  weight  of  the 
bobbin  had  carried  the  wire  around  his  body 


THE  STAG  AND  THE  WITCH 


THE   THREE  IVORY  BOBBINS.  181 

and  around  his  neck,  and  the  bobbin  itself  had 
caught  in  the  fork  of  one  of  his  antlers^ 

"  The  little  old  man  seemed  to  be  very  happy. 
He  patted  Three  Wits  on  the  shoulder,  and  de 
clared  that  he  was  a  good  boy,  a  fine  boy.  'But 
there  is  more  to  be  done,'  said  the  little  old  man, 
—  t  a  great  deal  more.  And  you  will  have  to  go 
alone.  I  can  help  you,  but  I  can't  be  with  you.' 

"  Then  he  found  the  ivory  bobbins,  rewound 
the  silver  wire,  which  seemed  to  spin  out  still 
longer,  and  gave  them  to  Three  Wits.  '  Take 
these,'  he  said,  '  and  go  to  the  witch's  house.' 

" '  Do  you  mean  Peggy  Pig-Eye's  house  ? '  asked 
Three  Wits. 

"  '  Why,  of  course,'  replied  the  little  old  man. 
'  Her  right  name,  as  you  saw  by  the  book,  is 
Paggia  Paggiola,  but  people  call  her  Peggy 
Pig-Eye  for  short.  Go  to  her  house,  throw  one 
of  the  bobbins  over  the  roof,  and  then  throw 
one  around  each  end.  Throw  quick  and  hard, 
and,  as  you  throw,  cry  out,  — 

"  '  Bibbity  bobbity  bobbin, 
Go  hibbity  hob  hobnobbin.' 

" '  But  wait ! '  cried  the  little  old  man.     <  You 


182  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

may  need  these  dogs.'  He  took  a  wisp  of  the 
witch's  hair,  and  whipped  them  back  to  life. 
And  maybe  you  '11  need  a  horse  to  ride.  So  he 
went  into  the  woods  where  the  Stag  lay  dead,  and 
whipped  him  to  his  feet  with  the  witch's  hair. 

" '  This  is  your  horse/  he  said  to  Three  Wits. 
But  the  boy  was  afraid  to  mount  the  Stag.  '  Be 
bold  ! '  cried  the  little  old  man  ;  '  all  depends  on 
that !  Give  me  your  foot.  There  you  are  !  Loop 
the  silver  wire  over  his  horns,  and  touch  him 
with  the  bobbin  the  way  you  want  him  to  go. 
He  '11  carry  you  safely.  Good-by  !  Be  bold ! ' 

"Following  the  little  old  man's  directions, 
Three  Wits  was  soon  cantering  down  the  road  on 
the  Stag's  back.  The  dogs  seemed  to  take  every 
thing  for  granted,  and  followed  along  after  the 
Stag  as  readily  as  if  he  had  been  their  master's 
horse.  But  travelers  who  chanced  to  be  going 
along  the  road  went  into  the  wood  when  they 
saw  a  boy  riding  a  big  Stag.  They  were  not 
used  to  such  a  queer  sight. 

"  The  spirits  of  Three  Wits  rose  as  he  went 
along.  Everything  had  turned  out  so  happily, 
and  the  Stag  moved  along  so  gracefully  and 
easily  that  Three  Wits  felt  quite  like  a  hero. 


THE   THREE  IVORY  BOBBINS.  183 

"  He  went  ambling  along  the  road,  the  people 
staring  at  him,  until  he  came  to  the  witch's  house. 
Everything  was  quiet  there.  The  windows  and 
doors  were  closed,  and  the  only  sign  of  life  about 
the  place  was  a  big  black  cat  that  sat  on  the 
water-shelf.  Three  Wits  rode  the  Stag  around  the 
house  three  times.  Then  over  the  roof  he  threw 
a  bobbin.  To  the  right  he  threw  another,  and  to 
the  left  another.  The  silver  wire  seemed  to  whirl 
until  it  became  a  tangle  of  wire  all  over  the  house. 
The  big  black  cat  made  an  attempt  to  escape,  but 
it  was  caught  in  the  wire  as  a  fly  is  caught  in  a 
spider's  web,  and  it  hung  helpless  by  the  water- 
shelf. 

"  And  then  a  very  wonderful  thing  happened. 
The  silver  wire  seemed  to  become  so  heavy  that 
the  roof  of  the  house  couldn't  bear  its  weight. 
The  cabin  swayed,  and  finally  the  roof  fell  in 
with  a  crash.  Out  of  the  dust  and  wreck  walked 
the  father  of  Three  Wits,  leading  his  horse,  and, 
following  him,  came  a  dozen  or  more  elegantly 
dressed  gentlemen  whom  Three  Wits  had  never 
seen  before.  They  shook  hands  with  the  boy  and 
thanked  him  for  coming  to  their  rescue,  and  each 
gave  him  a  large  sum  of  gold;  so  that  when  they 


184  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

started  on  their  way  home,  Three  Wits  found  that 
he  was  very  rich.  As  for  the  father,  he  seized 
Three  Wits  in  his  arms  and  embraced  him  again 
and  again,  and  declared  that  even  a  king  might 
be  proud  to  have  such  a  brave  son. 

"  While  they  were  talking,  the  little  old  man 
came  out  of  the  wood.  He  went  straight  to 
Three  Wits,  placed  his  hand  on  the  boy's  head, 
and  seemed  to  be  blessing  him.  Then  he  lifted 
Three  Wits  from  the  Stag's  back,  mounted  in  his 
place,  waved  his  hand  twice,  and,  in  a  twinkling, 
had  disappeared  in  the  wood.  That  was  the  end 
of  the  witch,  and  this  is  the  end  of  the  story." 

"  Well,  I  think  it  is  a  very  good  story,"  said 
Buster  John. 

"  I  think  so,  too,"  remarked  Sweetest  Susan ; 
"  but  I  'm  sorry  there  was  no  little  girl  in  it." 


XVII. 

u  KEEN-POINT,"     "  COB-HANDLE,"    AND    "  BUTCH." 

"  THE  three  bobbins,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows,  "  re 
mind  me  of  a  circumstance  —  " 

"  Is  /  a  circumstance  a  story  ?  "  interrupted 
Sweetest  Susan. 

"  Oh,  you  must  n't  mind  my  country  talk,"  re 
plied  Mrs.  Meadows,  laughing.  "  It  was  a  trick 
of  my  tongue.  I  did  n't  want  to  say  '  story  '  be 
cause  you  might  be  disappointed.  But  I  reckon 
I  may  as  well  call  it  a  story.  Well,  as  I  was  say 
ing,  the  three  bobbins  remind  me  of  a  story  that 
was  partly  about  a  little  girl." 

"  I  know  it  must  be  a  nice  story,"  cried  Sweet 
est  Susan  enthusiastically. 

But  Mrs.  Meadows  shook  her  head.  "  From 
all  I  can  hear,"  she  said,  "  matters  and  things  in 
general  are  a  great  deal  nicer  in  books  than  they 
are  outside  of  books.  Folks  are  folks,  anyway 
you  can  fix  them,  I  don't  care  what  the  books 
say.  But  I  '11  not  deny  that  in  my  day  and  time 


186  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

I  have  seen  folks  mighty  near  as  nice  and  as 
pretty  as  those  you  read  about  in  the  books,  and 
one  of  these  was  the  little  girl  I  am  going  to  tell 
you  about. 

"  Once  upon  a  time,  in  the  country  where  I 
then  lived,  —  and  I  've  lived  in  a  good  many  coun 
tries,  for  wherever  you  find  mountains,  hills,  and 
rivers,  there  you'll  find  the  Meadows  family, — 
there  was  a  little  girl  who  was  both  beautiful  and 
good.  She  was  not  as  good  nor  as  beautiful  as 
those  you  read  about  in  the  books,  but  she  was 
good  enough  for  the  people  who  knew  her.  For 
a  wonder  she  did  n't  have  long  golden  hair.  Her 
hair  was  black,  and  curled  about  her  head  in  the 
loveliest  way ;  and  her  eyes  were  large  and  brown, 
and  her  skin  creamy  white,  with  just  the  shadow 
of  rose  color  in  her  face.  Her  parents  were  rich 
and  proud,  but  they  were  prouder  of  their  little 
girl  than  they  were  of  their  money,  as  well  they 
might  be,  seeing  that  she  was  the  smartest  and 
most  beautiful  child  to  be  found  in  all  the  coun 
try  round." 

"  Were  there  no  princes  and  castles  in  that 
country?"  inquired  Sweetest  Susan. 

"  Oh,    dear,    no ! "     replied    Mrs.    Meadows. 


KEEN-POINT,  COB-HANDLE,  ETC.  187 

u  The  folks  were  just  plain,  common,  every-day 
people.  Those  that  were  fortunate  enough  to 
be  honest  and  contented  were  much  better  off 
than  any  princes  you  ever  heard  of ;  and  a  hut 
where  happiness  lives  is  a  much  finer  place  than 
the  finest  castle. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  telling  you,  the  parents  of 
this  little  girl  with  black  curly  hair  were  very 
proud  of  her.  They  watched  over  her  very  care 
fully,  and  neglected  nothing  that  would  make  her 
happy  and  contented.  Some  little  girls  that  I 
have  known  would  have  been  spoiled  by  so  much 
kindness  and  attention,  but  this  little  girl  with  the 
black  curly  hair  was  n't  spoiled  at  all.  She  was 
as  good  as  she  was  beautiful. 

"  One  day,  when  this  little  girl  was  walking 
in  the  flower  garden,  she  heard  the  gardener 
talking  to  his  wife  through  the  iron  fence.  The 
woman's  voice  was  so  pleasant  and  her  laugh  so 
cheerful  that  the  little  girl  ran  to  the  fence  and 
peeped  through  to  see  who  it  was.  The  gardener's 
wife  saw  her,  and  at  once  began  to  pet  her  and 
make  much  of  her.  The  little  girl  wanted  the 
woman  to  come  into  the  garden,  and  seemed  to 
be  so  much  in  earnest  about  it  that  the  woman 


188  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

promised  she  would  come  and  be  the  child's  nurse 
some  day. 

"  No  sooner  had  the  gardener's  wife  gone  about 
her  business  than  the  little  girl  ran  and  told  her 
mother  that  she  must  have  a  nurse.  At  first  her 
mother  paid  little  attention  to  her,  thinking  that 
it  was  the  passing  whim  of  a  child,  but  the  little 
girl  insisted,  until  finally  her  mother  said :  — 

(( (  Who  shall  be  your  nurse  ?  You  know,  my 
dear, that  you  can't  have  everybody  and  anybody? ' 
" '  Ask  the  gardener,'  the  little  girl  replied. 
i  He  knows.' 

"  '  And  how  does  he  know  ?  '  the  mother  asked. 

" '  I  saw  him  talking  with  her,'  the  little  girl 
replied. 

"  So,  after  a  time,  the  gardener  was  called,  and 
then  it  was  found  that  his  wife  was  the  person  the 
little  girl  had  selected  to  be  her  nurse.  The  fa 
ther  and  mother  hesitated  for  some  time  before 
they  would  consent  to  send  for  the  woman,  but 
finally  she  came,  and  they  were  so  much  struck 
by  her  pleasant  manners  and  cheerful  disposition 
that  they  were  quite  willing  to  employ  her. 

"  For  a  long  time  after  that  the  little  girl  and  her 
nurse  were  never  separated  except  when  the  nurse 


KEEN-POINT,  COB-HANDLE,  ETC.  189 

would  go  home  to  see  her  husband  and  her  son, 
who  was  a  handsome  boy  about  fourteen  years  old. 
The  little  girl  used  to  grieve  so  when  her  nurse 
left  her  that  on  one  occasion,  when  the  woman  was 
going  home  for  only  an  hour  or  so,  she  carried 
the  child  with  her.  There  the  little  girl  saw  the 
handsome  son  of  her  nurse,  and  they  were  both 
very  much  pleased  with  each  other.  In  the  little 
time  she  stayed,  the  boy  showed  her  a  hundred 
new  games,  and  told  her  a  great  many  stories  she 
had  never  heard  before." 

"  How  old  was  the  little  girl  ?  "  Mr.  Thimble- 
finger  inquired. 

"  Between  seven  and  eight,"  replied  Mrs. 
Meadows  "  Just  old  enough  to  be  cute.  Well, 
in  the  little  time  they  were  together  the  boy  and 
girl  grew  to  be  very  fond  of  each  other.  The 
boy  thought  she  was  the  daintiest  and  prettiest 
creature  he  had  ever  seen,  and  the  little  girl 
thought  the  boy  was  all  that  a  boy  should  be. 

"  Of  course,  when  the  little  girl  went  back 
home  again  she  talked  of  nothing  else  but  the 
boy  who  had  proved  to  be  such  a  wonderful  play 
mate.  This  set  the  child's  mother  to  thinking, 
and  she  made  up  her  mind  that  it  would  n't  do 


190  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

for  these  children  to  see  so  much  of  each  other. 
So  she  sent  for  the  nurse  and  told  her  very  kindly 
that  she  did  n't  think  it  would  be  prudent  to  carry 
the  little  girl  to  her  house  any  more. 

"  The  nurse  agreed  with  the  little  girl's  mother ? 
but  somehow  she  did  n't  relish  the  idea  that  her 
brave  and  handsome  son  was  n't  good  enough  to 
play  with  anybody's  daughter.  She  thought  the 
matter  over  for  several  days,  and  finally  decided 
that  it  would  be  better  to  give  up  her  place  as 
nurse.  She  was  very  fond  of  the  little  girl,  but 
she  was  still  fonder  of  her  boy.  So  she  ceased 
to  be  the  child's  nurse,  and  went  to  her  own  home. 

"  The  little  girl  grieved  day  and  night  for 
her  kind  nurse.  Nothing  would  console  her.  Her 
mother  bought  her  a  little  pony,  but  she  would  n't 
ride  it ;  wonderful  dolls,  but  she  would  n't  look 
at  them  ;  the  finest  cakes  and  candies,  but  she 
would  n't  eat  them ;  the  most  beautiful  dresses, 
but  she  would  n't  wear  them.  Matters  went  on  in 
this  way  for  I  don't  know  how  long,  until,  finally, 
one  day  the  little  girl's  mother  concluded  to  send 
for  the  nurse. 

"  Now  it  happened  that  on  that  particular  day 
the  little  girl  had  made  up  her  mind  to  go  after 


KEEN-POINT,   COB-HANDLE,   ETC.        191 

her  nurse.  One  day  in  each  week,  the  gardener 
would  open  the  big  gates  of  the  park  in  order  to 
trundle  away  the  trash  and  weeds  that  he  had 
raked  up.  The  little  girl  watched  him  open  the 
gate,  and  then,  when  the  gardener  went  for  his 
wheelbarrow,  she  slipped  out  at  the  gate  and 
went  running  across  the  fields. 

"  For  a  time  the  little  girl  was  perfectly  happy. 
She  gave  herself  up  to  the  pleasure  of  being 
alone,  of  being  able  to  do  as  she  chose,  with  no 
one  to  tell  her  not  to  do  this  or  do  that,  or  to 
say  'come  here,'  or  'go  yonder.'  So  she  went 
running  across  the  fields,  looking  at  the  birds,  and 
trying  to  catch  butterflies,  and  singing  to  herself 
some  of  the  beautiful  songs  that  her  nurse's  son 
had  taught  her. 

"Now  it  happened  that  when  she  ran  out  of 
the  garden  gate,  in  her  haste  to  keep  out  of  sight 
of  the  gardener,  she  went  away  from  her  nurse's 
house  instead  of  going  towards  it.  She  had  been 
kept  so  closely  at  home  that  she  had  no  idea  of 
the  great  world  beyond  the  garden  gate.  She 
thought  that  all  she  had  to  do  to  get  to  her  dear 
nurse's  house  was  to  go  out  at  the  gate  and  keep 
on  going  until  she  came  to  the  place  where  there 


192  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

were  two  big  trees,  with  a  swing  between  them, 
and  a  little  white  house  on  the  other  side. 

"So  she  went  on  her  way,  singing  and  skip 
ping.  When  she  grew  tired  she  sat  down  to  rest. 
When  she  grew  thirsty  she  drank  of  the  clear^ 
cold  water  that  ran  through  the  fields.  When 
she  became  hungry,  she  ate  the  berries  that  grew 
along  the  way.  She  was  perfectly  satisfied  that 
she  would  soon  come  to  her  nurse's  house.  But 
the  sun  doesn't  stop  for  grown  people,  much 
less  for  children,  and  the  little  girl  soon  found 
that  night  was  coming  on.  The  only  thought  she 
had  was  that  her  nurse's  house  had  been  moved 
farther  away,  and  that  by  going  straight  ahead 
she  would  find  it  after  a  while. 

"  So  she  trudged  along.  When  the  sun  was 
nearly  down  she  saw  an  old  man  sitting  in  the 
shade  of  a  tree.  The  little  girl  went  straight 
towards  him,  made  him  a  curtsey,  as  she  had  been 
taught  to  do,  and  said :  — 

"  i  Please,  sir,  where  is  my  nurse's  house  ? ' 

"  The  old  man  raised  his  head  and  glanced  all 
around.  '  I  see  no  nurse's  house,'  he  replied. 

"  Then,  after  a  little  while  the  old  man  said  : 
1  My  dear,  give  me  a  drink  of  water.' 


THE  LITTLE  GIRL  AND  THE  OLD  MAN 


KEEN-POINT,   COB-HANDLE,   ETC.          193 

u  The  little  girl  looked  all  around.  '  I  see  no 
water/  she  replied. 

"  (  Well  said,  well  said  !  '  exclaimed  the  old  man. 
*  You  are  very  bright  and  very  beautiful,  there 
fore  I  '11  give  you  some  advice.  There  is  a  spring 
by  yonder  tree,  but  you  must  not  drink  the 
water.  There  is  a  pomegranate-tree  growing  by 
the  spring,  but  you  must  eat  none  of  the  fruit.' 

"  Having  said  this,  the  old  man  slung  his  wal 
let  over  his  back  and  went  on  his  way.  The  little 
girl  went  to  the  spring  and  looked  at  the  water. 
Then  she  looked  at  the  beautiful  red  fruit  grow 
ing  on  the  pomegranate-tree.  She  was  very 
thirsty,  very  hungry,  and  very  tired.  She  thought 
to  herself  that  the  old  man  was  very  mean  and 
stingy.  '  He 's  afraid  I  '11  muddy  the  water,'  she 
said,  '  and  he  wants  all  the  pomegranates  for 
himself.' 

"  Then  she  drank  from  the  spring,  and  the 
water  was  very  sweet  and  cool.  She  ate  the  fruit 
of  the  pomegranate-tree,  and  it  was  delicious. 
Then  being  tired,  she  stretched  herself  out  on  the 
grass  and  was  soon  sound  asleep. 

"  Now  it  so  happened,"  continued  Mrs. 
Meadows,  pretending  to  examine  the  stitches  in 


194  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

Sweetest  Susan's  frock  "  that  the  spring  and 
the  pomegranate-tree  were  under  a  spell.  They 
belonged  to  an  old  Conjurer  who  lived  in  a  cave 
close  by.  In  this  cave  he  had  a  large  bowl 
of  water  on  a  shelf,  and  near  it,  growing  in  a 
box,  was  a  little  pomegranate-bush.  Whenever 
anybody  drank  from  the  spring,  the  water  in 
the  bowl  would  shake  and  tremble  and  become 
muddy ;  and  whenever  a  pomegranate  was  pulled 
from  the  big  bush  by  the  spring,  the  little  bush 
in  the  Conjurer's  cave  would  bend  and  wave  its 
limbs  as  if  a  gale  were  blowing. 

"  All  this  occurred  when  the  little  girl  drank 
from  the  spring  and  pulled  and  ate  one  of  the 
pomegranates ;  and  by  the  time  she  was  sound 
asleep,  the  Conjurer  had  come  out  of  his  cave  and 
discovered  her.  He  waited  a  little  while,  and 
then  took  the  child  and  carried  her  to  his  cave, 
and  it  was  many  a  long  day  before  anybody, 
except  the  Conjurer  himself,  saw  her  again." 

At  this  point  Mrs.  Meadows  paused. 


XVIII. 

MRS.  MEADOWS  RESUMES  HER  STORY. 

THE  pause  was  occasioned  by  Mr.  Rabbit. 
He  had  fallen  into  a  doze  while  Mrs.  Meadows 
was  telling  her  story,  and  just  as  she  came  to  the 
point  where  the  Conjurer  had  lifted  the  little  girl 
in  his  arms  and  carried  her  into  his  cave,  Mr. 
Rabbit  had  dreamed  that  he  was  falling.  His 
chair  was  tilted  back  a  little,  and  he  made  such 
a  mighty  effort  to  keep  himself  from  falling  in 
his  dream  that  he  lost  his  balance  and  went  over 
sure  enough. 

O 

"  I  declare  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  myself  to  be  falling  heels  over  head 
this  way  without  any  reason  in  the  world,  and 
right  before  company  too.  Wasn't  there  some 
thing  in  your  story  about  falling  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word  !  "  replied  Mrs.  Meadows  firmly. 

"  Well,  well,  well !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Rabbit. 
"  I  '11  try  and  keep  my  eyes  open  hereafter." 

The  children  tried    their  best  to  keep  from 


196  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

laughing  at  Mr.  Rabbit's  predicament,  but  Dru- 
silla  was  finally  compelled  to  give  way  to  her 
desire,  and  then  they  all  joined  in,  even  Mr. 
Rabbit  smiling  somewhat  grimly. 

"Let  me  see,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows,  after  a 
while ;  "  the  last  we  heard  of  the  little  girl  I  was 
telling  you  about,  the  Conjurer  had  carried  her 
into  his  cave  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Sweetest  Susan  ;  "  and  now 
I  want  to  know  what  became  of  her." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows,  "the  shortest 
way  to  tell  you  that  is  the  best  way.  It  hap 
pened  that  on  the  very  day  the  little  girl  ran 
away  to  visit  her  nurse,  the  nurse  had  concluded 
to  visit  the  little  girl.  So  she  put  on  her  best 
things  and  went  to  the  little  girl's  home.  When 
the  woman  came  to  the  garden  she  saw  the  gate 
open,  and  presently  her  husband,  the  gardener, 
came  out  trundling  a  load  of  weeds  and  trash 
in  his  wheelbarrow.  She  asked  about  the  little 
girl. 

"  i  She  was  playing  under  the  trees  yonder 
awhile  ago,'  said  the  man.  ( I  have  n't  seen  her 
since.' 

"  The  woman  went  into  the  garden  and  searched 


THE  STORY   CONTINUED  197 

among  the  trees  and  arbors,  but  no  little  girl 
could  she  find. 

"  *  Having  come  so  far,'  she  said  to  herself, 
'I'll  not  go  back  without  seeing  the  precious 
little  creature.'  So  she  went  towards  the  house, 
searching  for  the  child.  She  inquired  of  every 
servant  she  met  where  the  little  girl  was,  and 
finally  went  into  the  house  searching  for  her. 
At  last  she  came  to  the  room  where  sat  her  former 
mistress.  But  the  child  was  not  there. 

"  In  a  very  short  while  there  was  a  tremendous 
uproar  in  the  place.  The  maid  servants  and 
the  men  servants  went  running  about  through 
the  house,  through  the  yard,  and  through  the 
garden,  calling  the  little  girl.  They  hunted  in 
every  hole  and  corner,  and  in  every  nook  and 
cranny,  but  the  child  was  not  to  be  found. 

"  The  kind-hearted  nurse  wept  almost  as  bit 
terly  as  the  mother.  *  Oh,  if  I  had  been  here,' 
she  cried,  '  this  would  never  have  happened.' 

"  The  little  girl's  father  came  in  just  in  time 
to  hear  this,  and  he  immediately  suspected  that 
the  nurse  had  stolen  his  daughter  and  would 
pretend  to  find  her  again  in  the  hope  of  se 
curing  a  reward.  He  said  nothing  of  his  suspi- 


198  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

cions,  but  he  determined  to  have  the  nurse  closely 
watched. 

"  He  was  so  firmly  convinced  that  his  suspicion 
was  correct  that  he  treated  his  daughter's  dis 
appearance  somewhat  lightly,  and  this  helped  to 
console  the  mother.  When  it  became  certain 
that  the  little  girl  was  not  to  be  found  in  the 
house  or  on  the  place,  her  father  called  one  of 
his  trusty  clerks  (for  he  was  a  rich  and  powerful 
merchant),  and  told  him  to  disguise  himself  as  a 
peddler,  go  to  the  nurse's  house,  and  there  dis 
cover,  if  possible,  where  the  nurse  had  bestowed 
the  child. 

"The  clerk  did  as  he  was  directed,  but  when 
he  arrived  at  the  nurse's  house,  disguised  as  a 
peddler,  he  was  surprised  to  find  as  much  grief 
under  that  humble  roof  as  there  was  at  his 
master's  house.  He  knocked  at  the  door  and 
inquired  the  cause  of  the  trouble,  hoping  to  dis 
cover  that  the  display  of  grief  was  a  mere  sham. 
But  he  soon  saw  it  was  genuine.  Both  the 
woman  and  her  handsome  son  were  weeping  bit 
terly  over  the  disappearance  of  the  little  girl. 

"  ( May  I  get  a  bite  to  eat  ? '  asked  the  peddler. 

"  '  That  you  may  ! '  exclaimed  the  woman,  '  for 


THE  STORY  CONTINUED.  199 

we  shall  need  nothing  ourselves,  until  we  hear 
some  news  of  that  precious  child.'  Then  she 
told  the  peddler  about  the  strange  disappearance 
of  the  little  girl  she  used  to  nurse,  and  the  ped 
dler,  in  order  to  carry  out  his  purpose,  asked  a 
great  many  questions.  When  he  was  told  that 
the  parents  of  the  little  girl  were  very  rich  he 
laughed,  and  said  that  if  they  had  plenty  of 
money  they  could  get  along  very  well  without  a 
little  girl,  but  this  made  the  woman  and  her  son 
so  angry  that  they  were  on  the  point  of  showing 
the  peddler  the  door.  They  were  ready  to  dis 
miss  him  with  many  hard  words,  when  they  heard 
some  one  calling. 

"  The  son  went  into  the  yard,  and  found  that 
an  old  man  had  fallen  not  far  from  their  gate  and 
was  unable  to  rise.  The  woman  went  to  help  her 
son  bring  the  old  man  in,  and  while  they  were 
gone  the  peddler  took  his  leave  without  so  much 
as  saying  good-by. 

"  With  a  good  deal  of  trouble  the  old  man 
was  brought  into  the  house,  and  made  comfort 
able,  but  no  sooner  had  he  been  placed  upon  the 
woman's  bed  than  he  leaped  to  his  feet  and  stood 
on  the  floor,  laughing. 


200  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"'I  have  fallen  at  a  dozen  doors  to-day/  he 
cried,  '  and  this  is  the  first  that  has  been  opened 
to  me.' 

"  '  Well/  replied  the  woman,  i  if  we  had  known 
you  were  playing  pranks  on  us  I  don't  think  this 
door  would  have  opened  to  you.  We  are  having 
too  much  trouble  ourselves  to  pester  with  other 
people's  troubles.' 

"  Then  she  went  on  to  tell  of  the  disappearance 
of  the  little  girl  she  used  to  nurse.  The  old  man 
tried  to  get  in  a  word  of  consolation,  now  and 
then,  but  the  woman  talked  too  fast  for  that. 
But  presently  she  had  told  about  all  she  had  to 
tell. 

" (  See  how  it  turns  out ! '  cried  the  old  man. 
'  How  can  it  be  accident  that  brings  to  your  door 
the  only  person  in  the  world  that  can  give  you 
any  tidings  of  the  little  girl?  I  saw  a  child  to 
day  some  miles  from  here  who  asked  me  to  show 
her  her  nurse's  house.' 

" '  Bless  her  dear  little  heart ! '  exclaimed  the 
woman. 

" l  But  she  was  in  great  danger/  said  the  old 
man.  '  She  was  just  about  to  enter  the  domain 
of  Rimrak.' 


THE  STORY  CONTINUED.  201 

" '  Ah,  why  did  n't  you  bring  her  away  with 
you  ?  '  cried  the  woman. 

" l  It  is  not  permitted,'  replied  the  old  man0 
'*'  I  did  what  I  could.  I  warned  her  not  to  drink 
of  the  waters  of  the  spring  nor  to  eat  of  the 
pomegranate-seed.  I  could  do  no  more.' 

"  i  Oh,  what  will  become  of  the  dear  child  ?  ' 
exclaimed  the  woman,  wringing  her  hands. 

"  '  If  she  drinks  of  the  waters  of  the  spring,' 
responded  the  old  man,  '  or  eats  of  the  pomegran 
ate-seed,  she  will  fall  into  a  deep  sleep.  Then 
will  come  Rimrak,  the  Conjurer,  and  convey  her 
to  his  cave,  and  there  she  will  be  held  captive 
until  she  forgets  she  is  a  captive,  or  until  she  has 
been  rescued  by  some  bold  youth  who  loves  her 
well  enough  to  remember  the  color  of  her  eyes.' 

"  '  I  remember  !  I  remember  ! '  cried  the  wo 
man's  handsome  son. 

" '  Be  not  too  sure,'  replied  the  old  man.  '  Sit 
down  and  think  it  over.' 

"  '  No  need  for  that,'  said  the  boy.  '  Her  eyes 
once  seen  can  never  be  forgotten.' 

" '  Oho  ! '  exclaimed  the  old  man.  ( Then  per 
haps  you  can  tell  me  the  color  of  the  little  girl's 
eyes  ? ' 


202  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

" '  Certainly/  said  the  boy.  *  They  are  brown 
when  she  lifts  them  to  your  face  and  dark  when 
she  looks  away  from  you.' 

"  The  old  man  nodded  his  head  with  a  greater 
display  of  good  humor  than  he  had  yet  shown. 

"  ( Ah,  you  think  so/  said  the  old  man,  warn- 
ingly;  'you  think  you  know,  but  be  not  too 
sure.' 

" '  Why,  I  can  see  her  now  ! '  exclaimed  the 
boy. 

" ( Where  ? '  cried  his  mother ;  (  oh,  where  ? ' 

"  The  boy  fell  back  in  his  seat  and  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands. 

" '  He  was  speaking  of  his  memory/  said  the 
old  man.  l  If  he  can  trust  it,  well  and  good.' 

"You  should  have  brought  the  child  home 
with  you/  said  the  matter-of-fact  woman. 

" '  It  was  not  in  my  power/  replied  the  old 
man.  '  She  had  gone  too  far.  She  had  already 
entered  the  domain  of  Eimrak,  the  Conjurer. 
All  that  I  could  do  I  did.  I  warned  her  not  to 
drink  of  the  waters  of  the  spring.  I  warned  her 
not  to  eat  of  the  seed  of  the  pomegranate.  But 
now  that  I  am  here,  let  us  see  what  can  be 
done.' 


THE  STORY  CONTINUED.  203 

"  He  went  to  his  wallet,  which  he  had  placed 
on  the  table,  opened  it  and  took  from  it  three 
knives.  One  was  a  clasp-knife  with  a  long,  slim 
blade,  the  next  was  a  common  case-knife,  and  the 
third  was  a  big  butcher's-knife.  The  case-knife 
had  once  had  a  horn  or  wooden  handle,  but  this 
had  dropped  off,  and  the  iron  that  held  the  knife 
in  place  had  been  run  into  a  corncob.  The  old 
man  took  these  knives  from  his  wallet,  one  by 
one,  and  placed  them  on  the  table. 

" '  Now  listen  to  me,'  he  said  to  the  boy.  e  All 
will  go  well  with  you  if  you  are  bold,  and  if  you 
really  remember  the  color  of  the  little  girl's  eyes. 
Here  are  your  arms.  This,'  taking  up  the  clasp- 
knife,  ( is  Keen-Point.  This,'  taking  up  the  case- 
knife,  *  is  Cob-Handle.  And  this  is  Butch.  Re 
member  their  names,  —  Keen-Point,  Cob-Handle, 
and  Butch.  Keen- Point  is  to  show  you  the  way, 
Cob-Handle  is  to  warn  you  of  danger,  and  Butch 
is  to  protect  you.  But  they  will  all  fail  you  — 
they  will  all  go  wrong  —  if  you  do  not  remember 
the  color  of  the  little  girl's  eyes.' 

"  The  boy  took  Keen-Point,  Cob-Handle,  and 
Butch,  and  stowed  them  away  in  a  wallet,  in 
which  his  mother  placed  a  supply  of  food.  Then 


204  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

he  set  out  on  his  journey,  with  a  light  heart. 
He  was  not  afraid,  for  he  knew  that  he  loved  the 
little  girl  well  enough  to  remember  the  color  of 
her  eyes.  He  went  on  his  way  till  he  came  to  the 
open  fields  where  no  one  lived.  He  had  been 
^here  many  a  time  before,  but  now  it  seemed  to 
him  that  he  had  never  seen  so  many  paths  and 
by-ways.  They  led  in  all  directions  and  crossed 
each  other  almost  at  every  turn. 

"  He  stopped  and  looked  all  around,  and  then 
he  took  Keen-Point  from  his  wallet,  and  said :  — 

" '  Keen-Point  can,  Keen-Point  may, 

Point  keen  and  true,  and  show  me  the  way.' 

"  As  soon  as  he  said  this,  the  knife  tumbled 
from  his  hand  and  fell  to  the  ground,  the  end 
of  the  keen  blade  pointing  towards  one  of  the 
many  footpaths.  The  boy  picked  it  up,  and  it 
tumbled  from  his  hand  again,  pointing  in  the 
same  direction.  He  picked  it  up  the  second 
time,  and  again  the  knife  fell  from  his  hand  and 
pointed  to  the  footpath.  For  the  third  time  he 
lifted  the  knife  from  the  ground,  and  as  it  fell 
no  more,  he  placed  it  in  his  wallet,  and  went  on 
his  way. 


THE  STORY  CONTINUED.  205 

"  Thus  he  continued  for  many  hours.  When 
he  was  in  doubt  about  the  way,  Keen-Point  would 
show  him.  When  he  grew  hungry,  he  ate  the 
food  his  mother  had  placed  in  his  wallet.  It  was 
late  in  the  day  when  he  started,  and  before  he 
came  to  the  spring  and  the  pomegranate-tree,  the 
sun  went  down  and  night  came  on.  The  boy 
stopped  under  a  wide-spreading  tree,  said  his  pray 
ers,  placed  his  wallet  under  his  head  for  a  pillow, 
and  went  to  sleep. 

" '  Bright  and  early  the  next  morning  he  was 
up  and  going.  Whenever  he  had  any  doubt 
about  the  way,  Keen-Point  would  show  him,  and 
before  the  sun  was  up  very  high,  he  came  in  sight 
of  the  pomegranate-tree,  with  its  red  and  golden 
fruit,  and  he  knew  the  spring  was  close  by. 

"  As  he  went  on  he  grew  thirstier,  and  thirstier, 
and  when  he  came  to  where  the  cool,  clear  waters 
of  the  spring  were  bubbling  from  the  ground  with 
a  sort  of  gurgling  sound,  his  throat  and  mouth 
seemed  to  be  as  dry  as  paper.  More  than  that, 
when  he  came  to  the  spring,  a  traveler  was  sitting 
on  one  of  the  stones  that  lay  around,  drinking  the 
water  from  a  silver  cup  and  peeling  the  rind  from 
a  pomegranate  with  a  silver  knife.  The  traveler 


206  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

had  a  very  pleasant  face  and  manner,  and  he  spoke 
to  the  boy  in  the  kindest  way. 

"  '  If  you  want  some  water/  he  said,  '  you  may 
drink  from  my  silver  cup.  If  you  are  hungry, 
you  may  peel  a  pomegranate  with  my  silver  knife.' 

"The  boy  thanked  the  traveler  and  said  that  he 
would  eat  and  drink  later  in  the  day.  He  thought 
to  himself  that  a  man  who  could  drink  from  a 
silver  cup  and  eat  with  a  silver  knife  ought  to  be 
able  to  travel  in  a  carriage  or  on  horseback,  but 
there  was  no  horse  nor  carriage  in  sight. 

"  '  Well,'  said  the  traveler,  ( if  you  will  neither 
eat  nor  drink,  you  can  at  least  rest  yourself.' 

"  So  the  boy  seated  himself  on  one  of  the  big 
rocks  close  by  the  spring,  and  the  traveler  began 
to  ask  him  all  sorts  of  questions.  What  was  his 
name,  and  where  did  he  come  from,  and  where 
was  he  going." 

"What  was  his  name?"  asked  Sweetest  Susan 
suddenly. 

"  Well,  I  declare !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Meadows, 
"  have  n't  I  told  you  his  name  ?  " 

"  If  you  did,  we  did  n't  hear  you,"  said  Buster 
John. 

Mrs.  Meadows  raised  her  hands  above  her  head 


THE  STORY  CONTINUED.  207 

and  let  them  fall  helplessly  in  her  lap.  "  1  told 
you  I  did  n't  know  how  to  tell  stories !  "  she  cried. 
"  You  had  fair  warning.  Well,  well,  well !  And 
I  never  even  told  you  his  name  !  "  She  paused 
and  stared  at  the  children  as  if  she  wanted  them 
to  pity  her  weakness.  "  To  think  that  I  should 
forget  to  call  his  name !  Everybody  knew  it  in 
my  day  and  time,  and  they  knew  about  his  won 
derful  adventures. 

"  His  name  was  Valentine,  because  he  was  born 
on  St.  Valentine's  Day,  and  the  little  girl's  name 
was  Geraldine. 

"  Well,  the  traveler  asked  Valentine  all  sorts 
of  questions,  and  tried  hard  to  persuade  him  to 
drink  some  of  the  water  and  eat  the  pomegranate- 
seed. 

" '  I  have  heard,'  said  the  traveler,  '  that  all 
this  country  around  here  is  ruled  by  a  cruel  Con 
jurer,  and  that  he  has  power  over  all  except  those 
who  may  chance  to  find  this  spring  and  this  pome 
granate-tree  in  passing,  and  drink  of  the  water 
and  eat  of  the  fruit.' 

"But  Valentine  shook  his  head.  He  said  he 
would  rather  have  milk  than  water  any  day,  and 
as  for  pomegranates,  he  had  no  taste  for  them. 


208  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  '  Then  I  would  advise  you  to  go  no  farther/ 
said  the  traveler.  '  If  you  fall  into  the  hands  of 
the  Conjurer,  you  will  never  escape.' 

" ( I  have  heard  of  this  great  Conjurer/  replied 
Valentine,  '  and  I  should  like  nothing  better  than 
to  see  him.' 

"  He  took  Keen-Point  from  his  wallet  and  pre 
tended  to  be  playing  with  it,  letting  it  fall  and 
picking  it  up.  The  knife  pointed  beyond  the 
spring  and  the  pomegranate-tree,  and  in  a  little 
while  Valentine  went  on  his  journey.  On  the 
hill  beyond  the  spring,  he  turned  and  looked 
back,  but  the  traveler  had  disappeared.  As  there 
was  no  place  where  he  could  hide,  Valentine  con 
cluded  that  the  man  he  had  seen  was  no  traveler 
at  all,  but  Rimrak,  the  Conjurer. 

"But  he  was  not  afraid.  He  went  on  his  way, 
and,  after  a  little,  came  to  a  grove  of  the  tallest 
and  biggest  trees  he  had  ever  seen.  As  he  was 
passing  through  this  grove,  he  suddenly  saw  two 
tremendous  spiders  running  about  among  the 
trees  before  and  behind  him.  Their  bodies  were 
as  big  as  a  feather  bed  when  it  is  rolled  up,  and 
they  were  pretty  much  the  same  color.  Valen 
tine  watched  their  antics  a  few  minutes,  and  soon 


THE  STORY  CONTINUED.  209 

saw  they  were  spinning  a  web  among  the  trees 
and  that  he  was  in  the  middle  of  it. 

"  The  big  spiders  ran  about  on  the  ground  spin 
ning  their  webs  around  him,  and  then  they  be 
gan  to  jump  from  tree  to  tree.  Valentine  began 
to  have  a  creepy  feeling  up  and  down  his  back, 
for  he  did  n't  relish  the  idea  of  being  caught  in 
a  spider's  web  like  a  bluebottle  fly.  He  won 
dered  why  Cob-Handle  had  n't  warned  him  of 
the  danger,  and  then  he  remembered  that  the 
case-knife  was  wrapped  so  tightly  in  his  wallet 
that  it  could  n't  give  a  warning  if  it  was  to  try. 
So  he  took  all  the  knives  from  the  wallet,  — 
Keen-Point,  Cob-Handle,  and  Butch,  —  and  placed 
them  in  his  girdle. 

"  Valentine  hardly  had  time  to  fasten  the 
straps  about  the  wallet,  before  he  felt  Cob- 
Handle  jumping  about  and  thumping  against  his 
side.  Then  he  saw  one  of  the  big  spiders  com 
ing  towards  him.  Big  as  it  was  it  moved  nimbly, 
and  before  Valentine  had  time  to  get  out  of  the 
way,  it  ran  around  him  and  wrapped  a  strand  of 
its  web  about  his  legs.  The  strand  was  as  big 
as  a  stout  twine  and  as  strong  and  as  hard  as 
wire.  Then  the  big  spider  turned  and  came 


210  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

back,  but  by  this  time  Valentine  had  drawn 
Butch  from  his  belt,  and  as  the  ugly  creature 
came  near  he  struck  at  it  with  the  knife,  and 
cut  off  one  of  its  hairy  legs.  The  creature  was 
so  full  of  life  and  venom  that  its  leg  jumped 
around  and  clawed  the  ground  for  some  little 
time. 

"  Holding  Butch  point  down  and  edge  out 
wards,  Valentine  cut  the  strand  of  web  that 
held  his  legs.  It  was  so  large,  and  drawn  so 
tightly  about  him,  that  it  sounded  like  somebody 
had  broken  a  fiddle-string.  In  this  way  he  cut 
his  way  through  the  web.  The  crippled  spider 
ran  to  his  mate,  and  the  two  stood  watching  Val 
entine,  their  eyes  shining  green  and  venomous, 
and  their  jaws  working  as  if  they  were  chewing 
something." 

"  They  were  sharpening  their  teeth,"  Buster 
John  suggested. 

"  I  reckon  so,"  replied  Mrs.  Meadows.  "  Any 
how  they  were  ugly  enough  to  scare  anybody. 
Valentine  cut  his  way  through  the  web  and 
marched  out  on  the  other  side.  He  rested  a  little 
and  then  went  on  his  way ;  but  he  had  not  gone 
far  before  Cob-Handle  began  to  jump  and  thump 


VALENTINE  SLAYING  THE  SPIDER 


THE  STORY  CONTINUED.  211 

against  his  side.  He  stopped  and  looked  around, 
but  he  could  see  nothing.  He  listened,  but  he 
could  hear  nothing. 

"  Presently  he  felt  the  ground  moving  beneath 
his  feet,  and  he  ran  forward  as  fast  as  he  could. 
And  he  did  n't  run  too  fast,  either,  for  no  sooner 
had  he  jumped  away  than  a  great  hole  appeared 
right  where  he  had  been  standing.  He  could  see 
that  it  was  both  wide  and  deep,  but  he  did  n't  go 
back  to  look  at  it. 

"  No  ;  he  kept  on  his  way,  and  it  was  n't  long 
before  Cob-Handle  began  to  jump  and  thump. 
Keen-Point  also  began  to  jump  and  thump,  and 
showed  him  which  way  to  go,  and  he  ran  as  fast 
as  he  could.  He  heard  a  roaring  sound  as  he 
started,  and  he  had  hardly  got  fifty  steps  away, 
,  though  he  was  running  with  all  his  might,  before 
a  tremendous  whirlwind  came  along,  tearing  up 
the  bushes  by  roots  and  ploughing  the  ground. 
It  came  so  close  to  Valentine  that  if  he  had 
had  on  a  long-tail  coat,  I  believe  it  would  have 
been  tangled  in  the  whirlwind. 

"  I  tell  you,"  Mrs.  Meadows  went  on,  see 
ing  the  children  smiling,  "it  was  no  laughing 
matter  to  Valentine.  He  shivered  and  trembled 


212  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

when  lie  thought  what  a  narrow .  escape  he  had 
had. 

"  He  went  on  his  way,  and  in  a  little  while 
Cob-Handle  began  to  jump  and  thump  again. 
Valentine,  thus  warned,  stood  still  and  looked 
around  more  carefully  than  he  had  yet  done. 
Some  distance  off,  he  saw  a  horrible  creature  com 
ing  towards  him.  It  was  in  the  shape  of  a  man, 
but  it  had  four  arms  and  hands,  and  in  each  hand 
it  was  flourishing  a  club.  Its  hair  stood  out  from 
its  head  like  the  shucks  in  a  scouring-mop,  and 
as  it  came  nearer,  Valentine  saw  that  it  had  three 
eyes,  —  one  on  each  side  of  its  nose,  and  one  in 
its  forehead. 

"  Keen-Point  said,  *  Go  straight  forward,'  and 
then  Butch  began  to  jump  and  thump,  so  Valen 
tine  placed  Cob-Handle  and  Keen-Point  in  his 
girdle,  and  took  Butch  in  his  hand.  Holding  the 
point  straight  before  him,  he  went  towards  the 
misshapen  creature.  Its  red  and  watery  eyes  were 
blinking  and  winking,  and  its  arms  were  thresh 
ing  the  air  with  the  clubs  at  such  a  tremendous 
rate  that  Valentine  thought  his  hour  had  surely 
come.  But  he  shut  his  eyes  and  went  straight  at 
the  creature.  The  sharp  point  of  Butch  had  no 


THE  STORY  CONTINUED.  213 

sooner  touched  the  monster  on* its  hairy  breast 
than  its  hands  dropped  the  clubs,  and  it  ran  howl 
ing  back  the  way  it  came. 

"  Valentine  followed  fast  enough  to  see  the 
creature  enter  a  cave,  and  to  this,  Keen-Point 
told  him  he  must  go.  As  he  went  forward,  a 
fierce-looking  man  came  from  the  cave  and  stood 
guarding  the  entrance.  He  was  covered  from 
head  to  foot  with  silver  armor,  and  he  brandished 
a  long  keen  sword  with  a  silver  handle.  But 
Valentine  went  straight  forward,  holding  Butch 
in  his  hand.  The  long  sword  never  touched  him, 
nor  did  the  silver  armor  stand  in  his  way.  With 
one  blow  against  Butch  the  long  sword  was  shat 
tered,  and  the  silver  armor  fell  away  from  Bimrak 
like  the  hulls  from  a  ripe  hickory-nut.  Rimrak 
himself  fell  before  Butch  and  disappeared  with 
a  hissing  sound ;  and  then  the  cave  was  no  longer 
dark.  Its  roof  seemed  to  roll  away ;  and  where 
the  cave  had  been,  there  stood  a  great  company 
of  people  who  had  been  held  captive  by  the  Con 
jurer.  They  stood  wondering  what  had  happened 
and  what  would  happen  next.  Among  them  was 
Geraldine.  She  knew  Valentine,  and  ran  to  him, 
and  then  he  was  very  happy.  The  people  whom 


214  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER, 

he  had  rescued,  g'athered  around  him  and  thanked 
him  and  thanked  him  ;  and  some  would  have  re 
warded  him,  but  he  said  he  deserved  none.  He 
had  come  after  the  little  girl,  and  he  was  not  re 
sponsible  for  any  accidents  that  happened  to  other 
people.  This  is  what  he  said,  and  this  is  how  he 
felt ;  but  the  people  wondered  that  a  young1  boy 
should  be  so  bold  and  yet  so  modest. 

"  So  they  talked  together,  and  decided  to  go 
with  him  to  his  home.  Their  horses  and  their 
carriages  they  found  in  good  order,  and  in  a  little 
while  they  formed  a  procession.  In  this  way 
they  carried  Valentine  to  his  home,  crying  out 
to  the  people  they  passed,  — 

"  '  This  is  our  deliverer  !  This  is  the  brave  boy 
that  conquered  Rimrak,  the  great  Conjurer ! ' 

"  They  carried  Valentine  to  his  home,  and  then 
they  went  with  him  to  Geraldine's  home.  There 
was  great  rejoicing  in  the  town.  The  little  girl's 
father  was  rich,  and  he  called  all  the  people  to 
gether,  and  they  had  a  big  dinner,  and  everybody 
was  happy.  The  little  girl  had  her  old  nurse 
back,  and  she  grew  up  to  be  a  beautiful  young 
woman,  and  Valentine  grew  up  to  be  a  handsome 
young  man." 


XIX. 

A    STORY    OF   THE   RIVER. 

"I  THINK  that  was  a  beautiful  story,"  said 
Sweetest  Susan,  when  Mrs.  Meadows  paused; 
" but  was  that  the  end?" 

"Why,  wasn't  that  enough?"  inquired  Mr. 
Rabbit  sleepily.  "  What  more  could  you  ask  ? 
Didn't  the  boy  and  girl  get  back  home  where 
they  could  get  something  to  eat? " 

"  What  became  of  them?"  asked  Buster  John. 
"  The  stories  about  boys  and  girls  in  books  say 
they  married  and  lived  happily  ever  after." 

"  Oh,  yes ! "  cried  Mr.  Thimblefinger.  « I  've 
heard  about  it.  I  remember  the  poetry,  — 

"  '  They  married,  then,  and  lived  in  clover, 
And  when  they  died,  they  died  all  over.'  " 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows,  "  I  thought  surely 
you  'd  get  tired  of  Valentine  and  Geraldine  by 
the  time  they  got  back  home,  and  so  I  thought 
we  'd  do  well  to  leave  them  there.  Still,  if  you 


216  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

are  not  tired  — "  Mrs.  Meadows  paused  and 
looked  at  the  children. 

"  Oh,  we  are  not  tired,"  protested  Buster  John. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows,  "if  that's  the 
case,  I  '11  tell  you  what  happened  after  Valentine 
and  Geraldine  went  back  home.  Of  course, 
Geraldine's  father  and  mother  were  very  proud 
and  happy  when  their  little  girl  was  brought  back 
to  them.  They  were  very  grateful  to  Valentine, 
and  they  offered  him  money.  But  somehow  Val 
entine  didn't  want  their  money.  He  said  that 
the  pleasure  of  getting  Geraldine  out  of  the  hands 
of  the  wicked  Conjurer  was  reward  enough  for 
him,  and  so  he  shook  his  head  and  refused  the 
money  that  was  offered  him. 

"  Now,  the  little  girl's  father  was  rich  and 
prosperous,  while  Valentine  was  very  poor,  and 
it  was  natural  that  the  rich  man  should  wonder 
why  the  boy,  who  was  poor,  should  refuse  money. 
Somehow,  he  took  a  dislike  to  Valentine.  He 
said  to  himself  that  a  boy  who  would  refuse 
money  as  a  free  gift  would  never  be  prosperous. 

"As  time  went  on,  Valentine  grew  to  be  a 
handsome  young  man,  but  he  was  still  poor.  He 
went  to  see  Geraldine  sometimes,  but  as  she  grew 


A   STORY  OF  THE  RIVER.  217 

older,  she  grew  shyer.  Valentine  could  n't  under 
stand  this,  but  he  thought  it  was  because  she  was 
old  enough  to  know  that  she  was  rich  and  he 
was  poor. 

"  He  said  to  her  one  day.  '  You  are  not  as 
friendly  as  yob.  used  to  be.' 

"  '  Oh,  yes  I  am,'  she  replied.  '  I  shall  always 
be  friendly  with  you.' 

"  i  No,'  said  he,  '  you  have  changed.' 

"  ( No  more  than  you,'  was  her  answer. 

"  '  I  changed  ?  '  he  cried.  '  I  love  you  more 
than  I  ever  did.' 

"  With  that  Geraldine  hung  her  head  to 
hide  her  blushes,  but  Valentine  thought  she  was 
angry.  He  turned  on  his  heel  and  would  have 
gone  away,  but  she  called  him  back,  and  told  him 
not  to  go  away  angry  —  and  then  they  made  it  up 
somehow.  Valentine  said  he  would  speak  to  Ger- 
aldine's  father.  This  he  did,  but  the  father 
shook  his  head. 

"  '  You  want  to  take  her  to  a  hut  ? '  he  cried, 
{  Why  she  might  as  well  have  stayed  in  the  Con 
jurer's  cave.  Go  and  get  you  a  fortune,  and  then 
come  back,  and  maybe  we  '11  talk  the  matter  over.' 

"  Valentine  went  away   very  sad.     He   never 


218  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

turned  his  head,  although  Geraldine  was  watching 
him  from  a  window,  ready  to  wave  her  hand  and 
throw  him  a  kiss.  He  wandered  off  into  the 
woods  until  he  came  to  the  bank  of  the  River,  and 
there  he  sat  watching  the  water  go  by.  He 
watched  it  until  he  almost  forgot  his  own  trouble. 
It  went  along  slowly  and  majestically,  and  some 
times  it  seemed  to  come  eddying  back  to  kiss  the 
bank  at  his  feet.  For  a  little  while  it  smoothed 
the  wrinkles  in  his  mind.  He  wondered  where 
the  River  came  from  and  where  it  was  going  to. 
It  was  always  coming  and  always  going,  and  there 
was  never  an  end  to  it.  All  day  long  it  went  by, 
sometimes  laughing  and  playing  in  the  shallows 
and  sometimes  sighing  a  little  under  the  willows. 

"  Valentine  watched  it  and  listened  to  the 
pleasant  sounds  it  made  until  he  began  to  feel  as 
if  the  River  was  something  like  a  friend  and  com 
panion.  It  soothed  his  grief  and  drove  away  his 
loneliness.  Being  alone,  he  began  to  speak  his 
thoughts  aloud. 

"  '  Oh  !  I  wish  I  had  a  friend  as  strong  and  as 
powerful  as  the  River  ! '  he  cried. 

"  '  And  why  not  ?  '  he  heard  a  voice  say.  The 
water  at  his  feet  splashed  a  little  louder.  He 


A   STORY  OF  THE  RIVER.  219 

looked  around,  but  saw  no  one ;  he  listened,  but 
heard  nothing. 

"  '  I  wonder  who  could  have  spoken  ?  '  he  said 
aloud. 

" ( Who  but  your  friend,  the  River  ? '  a  Voice  re 
plied. 

" i  Please  don't  mock  me,  whoever  you  are. 
There  is  no  fun  in  misfortune,'  said  Valentine. 

"  '  None  at  all,'  responded  the  Voice.  ( I  am 
your  friend  the  River.  I  will  give  you  all  the  aid 
in  my  power.' 

" '  How  am  I  to  know  the  River  is  talking  ?  ' 
Valentine  asked. 

"  '  By  this,'  replied  the  River.  At  the  word,  a 
wave  larger  than  all  the  rest  sprang  up  the  bank, 
and  threw  its  spray  in  Valentine's  hair  and  face. 
'  That  is  my  salute,'  said  the  River.  i  It  is  a 
rough  way,  but  I  know  no  other.  Now,  how  can 
I  aid  you  ?  ' 

" '  That  is  what  troubles  me/  responded  Valen 
tine.  (  You  are  always  going ;  you  never  stay.' 

" '  True,'  said  the  River ;  '  but  I  am  always 
coming.  Therefore  I  must  be  always  returning.' 

"  '  But  how  ?  '  Valentine  asked. 

" '  Not  this  way,'   said  the  River,  '  but  over 


220  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

your  head.  When  in  the  early  morning,  or  in 
the  warmer  noon,  or  in  the  pleasant  evenings,  you 
see  the  white  clouds  flying  westward,  you  may  be 
sure  that  I  am  returning.'  Then  the  River  broke 
into  a  thousand  ripples,  as  if  smiling. 

"But  Valentine  sat  with  a  very  serious  face. 
'  I  do  not  know  how  you  can  aid  me,'  he  sighed. 

"  *  I  know  what  you  wish,'  the  River  replied. 
'  You  wish  riches/ 

"  '  Yes,'  said  Valentine,  '  but  not  for  the  sake 
of  the  riches  themselves.' 

" (  Of  course  not ! '  the  River  exclaimed.  ( Riches 
would  be  worthless  if  they  could  not  command 
something  better ;  and  they  are  worse  than  worth 
less  when  the  power  they  give  is  used  for  evil.  I 
can  give  you  riches,  but  not  without  your  help. 
I  can  give  you  the  power  to  obtain  wealth,  but  I 
cannot  give  you  the  power  to  use  it  as  it  should 
be  used.' 

"  Valentine  listened  to  the  mysterious  Voice  of 
the  River  like  one  in  a  dream.  He  could  hardly 
believe  his  ears. 

"  i  You  say  nothing,'  said  the  River  ;  ( you  seem 
half  asleep.  But  if  I  am  to  help  you,  you  must 
help  yourself.  Walk  by  my  side  a  little  way. 


VALENTINE  TALKING  TO  THE  RIVER 


A   STORY  OF  THE  RIVER.  221 

Further  down  you  will  come  to  a  boat  that  has 
drifted  against  the  bank.' 

"  Valentine  rose  and  stretched  himself,  and 
walked  by  the  side  of  the  River.  He  had  not 
gone  far  before  he  came  upon  a  boat  that  had 
drifted  into  an  eddy.  It  lay  there  rocking,  and 
a  long  oar  rested  against  the  seat. 

" '  Jump  in,'  said  the  River ;  '  shove  the  boat 
away  from  the  bank  and  trust  to  me.  Take  the 
oar  and  pull,  and  I  will  push  you  along.' 

"  Valentine  did  as  he  was  told,  and  he  soon 
found  that  the  boat  was  gliding  swiftly  along. 
The  trees  and  houses  on  each  side  seemed  to  be 
running  a  race  to  the  rear,  and  the  boats  that  he 
passed  on  the  River  seemed  to  be  standing  still. 
He  went  on  for  some  hours,  always  trusting  to 
the  River.  When  he  grew  tired,  he  held  his  oar 
in  the  air  and  rested,  but  whether  he  rested  or 
whether  he  rowed,  he  saw  that  his  boat  was 
always  gliding  swiftly  along. 

"  Presently,  in  the  far  distance,  he  could  see 
the  spires  and  steeples  of  a  city,  and  he  wondered 
whether  he  would  be  compelled  to  go  gliding  by, 
or  whether  the  River  would  land  him  there.  But 
he  was  not  left  long  in  doubt. 


222  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

" '  That  is  your  future  home/  said  the  River. 
1  There  you  will  find  friends,  and  there  you  will 
become  rich  and  famous.' 

" '  But  how  ? '  asked  Valentine. 

" 1 1  can  only  tell  you  the  beginning/  replied  the 
River.  '  When  your  boat  glides  to  the  landing- 
place,  you  will  see  there  an  old  gentleman  richly 
dressed.  He  will  ask  you  if  you  have  seen  his 
little  son.  He  has  been  there  every  day  for  two 
days,  and  he  has  asked  of  all  comers  the  same 
question/ 

"  '  What  shall  I  say  to  him  ? '  asked  Valentine. 

"  f  Tell  him  you  have  not  seen  his  son/  replied 
the  River,  '  but  that  you  feel  sure  you  can  find 
the  boy.  Tell  the  old  gentleman  that  you  have 
come  a  long  journey,  and  need  rest,  but  that  when 
you  have  refreshed  yourself,  you  will  go  and  seek 
his  son.' 

" e  But  where  shall  I  seek  for  the  boy  ? '  asked 
Valentine. 

"  '  Come  to  me/  said  the  River.  '  I  will  be  here. 
I  am  always  going,  and  yet  I  am  always  coming.' 

"By  this  time  they  had  come  to  the  city. 
'  Row  for  the  landing/  said  the  River ;  '  your  for 
tune  is  there.' 


A   STORY  OF  THE  RIVER.  223 

"Valentine  dipped  his  oar  in  the  water  and 
rowed  to  the  landing.  He  leaped  from  his  boat, 
threw  the  chain  around  a  stake,  and  looked  around. 
Sure  enough,  an  old  gentleman,  richly  dressed, 
was  walking  up  and  down,  his  hands  crossed  be 
hind  him.  When  he  saw  Valentine  he  paused 
and  looked  at  him.  Valentine  bowed  politely  as 
he  had  been  taught  to  do. 

" ( You  are  a  comely  lad/  said  the  old  gentle 
man.  '  Did  you  come  down  the  River,  or  from 
below  ? ' 

"  ( I  came  down  the  River,'  replied  Valentine, 
touching  his  hat  again. 

" '  I  have  lost  my  youngest  son,'  said  the  old 
gentleman.  e  He  is  a  little  boy  about  six  years 
old.  He  wandered  from  home  two  days  ago,  came 
to  the  River  landing,  and  was  last  seen  playing  in 
a  boat.  I  have  been  trying  to  find  him.  My 
boats  have  been  searching  in  all  directions,  but 
the  child  cannot  be  found.' 

"  ( I  think  I  can  find  him,'  said  Valentine,  '  but 
first  I  must  rest  and  refresh  myself.  I  have  come 
a  long  journey,  and  I  am  tired.' 

"  The  old  gentleman  seized  him  by  the  hand. 
'  Come  with  me  ! '  he  exclaimed.  '  You  shall  go> 


224          .   LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

to  my  house.  Your  every  want  shall  be  supplied. 
If  you  succeed  in  finding  my  lost  boy  you  shall 
have  whatever  you  ask  for.' 

" e  I  shall  ask  for  nothing/  replied  Valentine 
i  The  pleasure  I  shall  have  in  restoring  your  son 
to  your  arms  will  be  sufficient  reward  for  me.' 

"  '  Nevertheless,'  said  the  gentleman,  '  you  shall 
have  a  more  substantial  reward  than  that.' 

"  So  he  took  Valentine  home,  and  treated  him 
with  the  greatest  kindness.  He  was  served  with 
rich  food  and  the  finest  spiced  wines,  and  fitted 
out  with  an  elegant  suit  of  clothes.  Early  the 
next  morning,  Valentine  thanked  the  gentleman 
for  his  kindness. 

"'I  go  now,'  he  said,  cto  find  your  son. 
Watch  for  me  near  the  River.  I  may  return 
soon,  or  I  may  be  gone  long,  but  when  I  return 
I  will  bring  your  son.' 

"  '  You  are  young,'  remarked  the  gentleman. 
*  You  are  hopeful  and  brave.  You  imagine  you 
can  succeed  where  others  have  failed.  But  I 
fear  not.  My  lost  boy  has  been  sought  by  men 
older  than  you,  and  quite  as  brave,  but  they  have 
not  found  him.' 

" '  Certainly,  I   may  fail,'    Valentine   replied. 


A   STORY  OF  THE  RIVER.  225 

( If  I  depended  on  myself  alone,  I  know  I  would 
fail.  But  I  trust  in  Providence.' 

"  Valentine  and  the  gentleman  then  went  to 
the  River  —  one  to  go  in  search  of  the  lost  child, 
and  the  other  to  watch  and  wait  for  the  return. 
Valentine  went  to  the  water's  edge. 

" i  Get  a  boat  with  a  sail,'  whispered  the  River, 
lapping  the  sand  at  his  feet.  This  was  provided 
at  once,  for  the  gentleman  was  very  wealthy,  and 
then  Valentine  set  out  on  his  voyage.  '  Go  back 
the  way  you  came,'  said  the  River,  '  but  keep  out 
of  the  middle  current.  Let  the  wind  fill  your 
sails  and  carry  you  near  the  shore,  on  the  right.' 
With  the  River  to  direct  him,  Valentine  sailed 
along  with  a  light  heart  and  a  happy  mind.  For 
more  than  two  hours  he  journeyed  up  the  River, 
and  it  was  not  until  the  sun  was  low  in  the  west 
that  the  River  told  him  to  lower  the  sails  of  his 
boat.  This  done,  the  River  carried  his  boat  gen 
tly  ashore,  and  as  it  glided  on  the  sand,  he  saw, 
near  by,  a  boat,  in  which  a  little  boy  lay  fast 
asleep.  Without  disturbing  him,  Valentine  lifted 
the  little  fellow  in  his  arms,  and  transferred  him 
to  the  new  boat,  in  which  wraps,  and  cloaks,  and 
food  had  been  placed. 


226  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEF1NGER. 

"  It  was  easy  to  guess  how  the  little  boy  had 
been  lost.  He  had  gone  to  play  in  a  boat,  which 
broke  loose  from  its  fastenings,  and  drifted  slowly 
up  the  River  in  the  eddies  that  play  hide  and 
seek  near  the  bank.  The  first  day  the  searchers 
searched  for  him,  they  went  too  far.  The  next 
day  they  searched  too  near,  and  so  the  child 
drifted  and  drifted,  and  was  lost  sure  enough. 
He  was  very  cold  and  wet  when  Valentine  found 
him,  but  in  a  little  while  he  was  warmly  wrapped 
in  the  cloaks  that  had  been  provided. 

" '  Take  his  boat  in  tow,'  said  the  River.  '  Let 
your  sails  stay  down,  and  take  the  oars  and  row 
home  as  hard  as  you  can.' 

"  The  River  helped  with  its  swift  current,  and 
it  was  not  long  before  Valentine  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  bonfire  that  was  burning  at  the  landing  to 
light  him  back  to  the  city. 

"  There  was  great  rejoicing  when  Valentine  re 
turned  with  the  lost  child.  The  bells  were  rung 
and  salutes  fired  from  the  big  cannon  that  com 
manded  the  approaches  to  the  city.  It  turned 
out  that  the  gentleman  whose  child  Valentine 
had  found  was  the  ruler  of  the  city,  and  you  may 
depend  upon  it  he  was  grateful  to  the  unknown 
young  man. 


A   STORY  OF  THE  RIVER.  227 

"  But  in  all  large  cities  there  are  some  envious 
people,  and  these  soon  had  it  whispered  about 
that  Valentine  was  a  mere  adventurer  who  had 
stolen  the  child  and  hid  it  so  that  he  might  rescue 
it  again  when  a  big  reward  was  offered.  These 
whispers  grew  thicker  and  thicker  until  at  last 
they  reached  the  ears  of  every  one.  No  one  knew 
Valentine,  and  appearances  were  against  him,  but 
one  day  he  was  approached  by  an  old  man  with  a 
long  white  beard,  who  asked  him  from  whence  he 
came.  The  old  man  was  so  kind  and  agreeable 
in  his  manner  that  Valentine  told  him  the  story 
of  the  rescue  of  Geraldine. 

"Much  to  his  surprise  the  old  man  rose  and 
embraced  him.  (  Come  with  me ! '  he  cried. 
So  saying,  he  carried  Valentine  to  the  market 
place,  and  there  in  the  presence  of  a  great  crowd 
of  people,  the  old  man  said :  — 

"  e  Behold  my  rescuer  !  Behold  the  brave  youth 
who  conquered  Rimrak,  the  Conjurer.' 

"  This  closed  the  mouths  of  the  envious,  and 
when  that  happens,  there  is  not  much  more  to  tell 
in  any  story." 

Here  Mrs.  Meadows  paused  and  looked  at  Mr. 
Rabbit,  who  sat  fast  asleep  in  his  chair. 


228  LITTLE  MR.  THIMBLEFINGER. 

"  Did  he  get  rich  and  marry  Geraldine  ?  "  in 
quired  Sweetest  Susan. 

"  Why  of  course,"  replied  Mrs.  Meadows. 
"  Do  you  reckon  he  'd  have  gone  through  all 
these  ups  and  downs  if  he  was  n't  to  marry  and 
settle  down  and  be  happy  in  the  end  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Buster  John,  "  it  was  a  pretty 
good  story." 

"I  speck  so,"  remarked  Drusilla,  "but  dey's 
lots  too  much  richness  in  it  fer  me." 

Mrs.  Meadows  laughed  so  heartily  at  this  that 
Mr.  Rabbit  was  aroused  from  his  nap,  and  looked 
around  in  surprise. 

"  Did  I  hear  somebody  say  supper  was  ready  ?  " 
he  asked. 

Mrs.  Meadows  laughed  again,  but  this  time  she 
glanced  at  the  sky  of  Mr.  Thimblefinger's  queer 
country.  It  had  grown  perceptibly  darker.  Mr. 
Thiniblefinger  drew  out  his  little  watch.  Mr. 
Rabbit  closed  one  eye,  and  sat  as  if  listening  for 
something. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Meadows  with  a  sigh,  "  I 
reckon  we'll  have  to  tell  you  good-by  -for  this 
time,  but  I  do  hope  you  '11  come  again.  I  declare 
it  has  been  a  treat  to  have  some  new  somebody  to 


— -X 


BUSTER  JOHN  SHAKING  HANDS  WITH  MR.  RABBIT 


A   STORY   OF  THE  RIVER.  229 

talk  to.  By  the  time  you  get  back  home  the  sun 
will  be  setting  in  your  country,  and  your  folks 
will  begin  to  be  uneasy  about  you." 

The  children  were  not  at  all  anxious  to  go. 
They  had  had  a  very  curious  experience  in  Mr, 
Thimblefinger's  queer  country,  and  they  had 
almost  forgotten  that  the  sun  in  their  part  of  the 
world  had  a  habit  of  going  down.  But  they  said 
they  were  ready,  and  then  they  shook  hands  all 
around.  When  Buster  John  came  to  shake  hands 
with  Mr.  Rabbit,  the  latter  looked  at  the  young 
ster  a  moment. 

"  Did  you  ever  happen  to  know  a  colored  man 
named  Aaron  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Uncle  Aaron  !  "  exclaimed  Buster  John. 
"  Why,  he  lives  on  our  plantation.  He 's  the 
foreman." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Rabbit  solemnly,  "  when  you 
see  Aaron,  take  his  left  hand  in  both  of  yours, 
bend  his  thumb  back  a  little,  and  with  your  right 
thumb  make  this  mark  ^.  The  first  time  he  will 
pay  no  attention.  Make  it  the  second  time. 
Then  he  will  be  ready  to  listen.  Make  it  the 
third  time.  Then  he  will  ask  you  what  you  want. 
Say  to  him  that  you  want  to  learn  the  language 
of  the  animals." 


230  LITTLE  MR.   THIMBLEFINGER, 

"  Won't  he  get  angry  ?  "  asked  Buster  John. 

"  Try  him,"  replied  Mr.  Rabbit  with  a  cunning 
look.  "  Now,  good-by !  " 

"  When  you  get  ready  to  come  again,"  said 
Mrs.  Meadows,  "just  drop  a  big  apple  in  the 
spring,  and  I  '11  be  bound  we  '11  all  see  it  and 
know  what  it  means.  And  when  you  come  be 
sure  and  bring  the  apple.  It 's  been  a  month  of 
Sundays  since  I  've  had  one." 

The  children  promised  they  would,  and  then, 
with  Mr.  Thimblefmger  leading  the  way,  they 
started  home,  which  they  reached  without  further 
adventure.  As  they  stood  on  the  brink  of  the 
spring,  waving  their  hands  to  Mr.  Thimblefmger, 
who  was  smiling  at  them  from  the  bottom,  Dru- 
silla  remarked  with  unction  :  — 

"  I  dunner  how  't  is  wid  you  all,  but  I  don't  no 
mo'  b'lieve  we  been  down  dar  under  dat  water 
dar  dan  —  dan  —  dan  de  man  in  de  moon.  Dat 
I  don't!" 

Then  the  youngsters  heard  the  supper-bell  ring, 
and  they  all  ran  towards  the  house. 


tcr  3d 


DATE  DUE 


GAYLORD 


